‘Time is a dressmaker specializing in alterations.’ Faith Baldwin
The seamstress has been nipping and tucking at the contents of my skin for decades. A trillion seconds clothe me with wisdom and wrinkles; from undercover grey to heels, my story has stretched to tiptoe away with my life.
Disrobing is unwise whilst grandchildren peek from the womb and know no shame. A web of instant intelligence holds youth in the pockets of dreams where human threads of silver are seldom found.
Plastic endures in the fabrics of a multitude of makeovers.
I-pods and pads, blue teeth (?), shades that render speechless eyes, rings and ink work in every region, accessorise where feathers and brooches once held fashion together.
Whilst the dress may change, the dummy is constant but the real truth is that nothing is.
And if the Emperor really is naked what are you wearing today?