Jack Conte reflects on aging and mortality through vivid metaphors: candles melting, leaves falling, a cold glass of milk. He describes writing in mirrors as a coping mechanism and suggests that after life's chaos, everything returns to the way it was before.
Chapters
16 candles on a birthday cake. Don't blow 'em out, let 'em burn all the way. Gotta learn about your fate. 'Cause we're all gonna melt someday. Hear it when I crunch the leaves on the ground. Imagine it's me once, green soon brown. And the wind will howl, but I won't make no noise. Sound. After we pass through this service, after they have swept the floor, it'll all go back to the way it was before. I keep myself distracted with a mirror and a pen. I store the words on paper instead of my head. It's like a cold glass of milk when I hear my stomach ache while stuck in bed.
What if all the crazies are really sane? They see something that the rest of us can't.
It's beautiful. I'm fine being by myself, not wasting wishes on women when I'm throwing pennies in the well. I'm fine being by myself. I still got my tongue, don't I? And a story to tell. After we pass through this circus, after they have They'll all go back to the way it was before. Yes, after we pass through this circus, after they have swept the floor, it'll all come back to the way it was before. It'll all go back to the way it was before. It'll all go back to the way it was before.
