it’s unfair that we get smaller as we get older. it’s unfair that our bodies don’t reflect the actual growth we experience over time. age and experience should add strength to our muscles, density to our bones, and capacity to our memories, not take them away. ideally we’d end as giants, slowing and calcifying into memorials. that east-facing caryatid is my mother’s mother, who loved to greet the sun. that menhir, tilted westward, is her husband, who loved to see it off. I live in the shadow of the plinths that were my mother and father, my uncles and aunts.