Life as an art form

In my 20s I was some funky bookcase from Ikea. In my 30s I’m becoming a hand-made piece of furniture made of solid wood. By 60s I’ll probably become an exclusive piece that could be evaluated as a piece of art. Or not. Nevertheless, what I’m becoming also becomes more valuable to me. I don’t want to treat myself as cheap Ikea shit that has no value and no life span. I’m liking what I am becoming. It’s the difficult process of becoming that has added value to my life.

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