Delving through the recesses of my mind, I came across a picture frame. The photo within was of a small boy, who had a mop of platinum white hair, and ice-cream on his face. He was clearly enjoying himself.
Yet see here, the edges of the frame are thin and frayed, with streaks of grey strands sticking out at peculiar angles. The image itself is faded and discoloured, the original energy somehow subdued, and diminished.
The trees of green were more a dying yellow. The blue sky a light tint of grey. Red was clearly the fighter of the three, giving the lad a slight sunburn, and lipstick on his lips.
Yet the ice-cream was still white, and the smile was still wide. The sense of satisfaction and happiness were still clearly visible in his eyes.
Then he winked at me. Very carefully, he closed one eye and opened it again. His smile seemed to grow wider. For a moment, the colours returned, and the frame was whole.
That was when I realised, through the fading and ageing, the little boy continued to smile, and enjoy his ice-cream. Maybe I should too.
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