Not quite a rant.

Here's something I don't understand about adults.

How they can look at one old picture for half an hour loudly trying to identify everyone in the frame, then quickly flip through a few more pages and close the album.

But I look for more in a picture than names, and I thought most people were like me. I look for sentiments, emotions, ideas, the feeling depicted. And I'm down in the basement hour after hour blowing the dust off the ancient bindings.

Time for one of those tiresomely popular protest lyrics to surface in my writing. I hope I die before I get old....

Though, of course, I'm not exactly proud of my generation.