Paula Orndoff

Now, alone, in his middle years, a man looks back... to the optimism, the unfulfilled promise, that he carried with him in his youth, to dreams receding and slowly abandoned, to a remembered love that came and then was lost. And life itself - life that once seemed free and endless and endlessly buoyant and hopeful - has, with the passing years, turned ordinary, prosaic, cautious and solitary. Are these the recollections of one man, looking back? Or are they the reflections of Everyman?

Now, alone, in his middle years, a man looks back... to the optimism, the unfulfilled promise, that he carried with him in his youth, to dreams receding and slowly abandoned, to a remembered love that came and then was lost. And life itself - life that once seemed free and endless and endlessly buoyant and hopeful - has, with the passing years, turned ordinary, prosaic, cautious and solitary. Are these the recollections of one man, looking back? Or are they the reflections of Everyman?

Now, alone, in his middle years, a man looks back... to the optimism, the unfulfilled promise, that he carried with him in his youth, to dreams receding and slowly abandoned, to a remembered love that came and then was lost. And life itself - life that once seemed free and endless and endlessly buoyant and hopeful - has, with the passing years, turned ordinary, prosaic, cautious and solitary. Are these the recollections of one man, looking back? Or are they the reflections of Everyman?