One day, perhaps, you'll reach an age when all your old clothes are discarded. The faded levis you wore from 16 - 40 with the corduroy and velet butterfly you sewed on the back pocket. The bright blue dress that becomes too short for you - inappropriately, perhaps, though you baulk at responding to what might be appropriate. You'll look back on you in those clothes and see how beautiful you were, even if you didn't think so at the time. You'll tug on the new old tshirt you got from a bar in Galicia, a freebie, oversized, and wonder how many years you will love this t-shirt, this self, that one day too will be discarded.