Baby Violet and I were walking down by the sea the other morning. I do these longer walks a few times a week in an effort to kick my mitochondria back into gear, so I can get some energy back into my body and be able to enjoy life. I took a few photos:

We were walking past the basketball courts and I noticed a guy shooting hoops, as they say. He was an older guy with his top off, looking pretty ripped. He also had a grey and white beard. Interesting, I thought, but wasn’t sure why.

The next day at work I was talking to a colleague in-between customers and unpacking that moment. This person, BTW, also has a beard, and said that he grew it at the same time as when he moved to Brighton to restart his life. Like it signified a fresh start. He also saw his beard as a manifestation of feeling more comfortable within his skin, like he had accepted getting older. Plus, that within his group of friends age was looked at as a positive – someone who had been through shit and had developed opinions and knowledge about the world. 

Interesting, I thought…

I’ve never been comfortable with getting older, never at peace with losing my hair or it getting grey, my body not being what it was, and with the fact that I won’t be around forever.

I realised as we were talking why the image of the older, bearded, basketball-playing guy had impressed me: he seemed comfortable within his ageing skin and greying hair, out there early in the morning, just playing basketball by himself in the fresh salty air for the hell of it..