They would like one to stay as he is. They don't want one's face to change. But my face will not conform. It insists on chaning often. That's a necessity.
"A branch, broken and split,dangling year after year,clicking its song to the wind.With neither leaves nor bark,bear, wan, worn out by a long life and a long death.Its song echoes, cracking and persistent,Stubbornly, it resounds with secret anguish.For yet another summer.Yet another winter."