Old age.

With fear I am waiting for the moment when young people begin to annoy me, when their music seems to be stupid, outfits are tasteless, mores are loose; when I catch myself thinking that earlier the grass was greener, and the water was wetter.

Some of my peers have already started to express such suspicions. However, it has not touched me yet.

Interesting, that I like modern R & B more than once loved “ABBA” and “Boney M”, “Mirage” and “Tender May”. No, of course, I sometimes listen to them with pleasure and remember my first parties, but not more than 10 minutes. Then all. A longing begins.

I somehow like modern fashion more than what I wore at school and university. I like the young and naive faces on the old photos, but not the clothes.

The modern liberated youth pleases me more than the pioneers and Komsomols in my youth. Of course, sometimes I remember patriotism and devotion to the cause of those times with warmth, however current youth admires me with its breadth of views and courage. I like the modern world more than the yesterday one.

Maybe the reason is that I do not like to look back and prefer to look forward; or maybe this is the criterion? As soon as you begin to grieve over the past, not building the grandiose plans for the future, you are turning to an old man.

Interesting, that it does not matter how old you are at that moment.