Old streets, old people, old times.

There’s a pleasure in old that seldom gets explained in words. Old is gold, they say, but old is not gold, love. Gold is strong, sturdy, and ever-relevant. Old is old, crippling, falling apart, hazy, broken, and faded. Old is never relevant. Old is a remnant of time by-gone.

Old is old, and for that, we give thanks.