Crepe paper skin.
Back bent in half.
Shuffle, shuffle, brace…repeat.

Little frame once tall.
Feeble arms once strong.
Vitality now gone.

Life still has meaning, though clothed in different capabilities.

He reached for his wallet, letting his wife and daughter know it was his treat today. A man never loses that sense of pride in provision.
His right arm finds home around his wife - how much life have they lived together?

A faded star still shines from his forearm, a tattoo broadcasting -
I was once young.
I too had adventures.
I had more future than past and more dreams than memories.
I was once you.

And it flashed - war and pain and love and joy and hope and sorrow and fun and change, held in a fragile little shell, wrapped in crepe paper skin.