Now I’m old everything is shrinking except my hands. They keep growing. Everything looks small in them; my knife, a slice of bread, a few coins, my dick – especially my dick. My balls are holding their own, however. It’s funny, but I don’t feel much like laughing. In the future I won’t be much use. I’ll be too small for anything, unless a pickle jar needs opening. My neighbor tried to console me. He said, ‘Not everything is shrinking, look at your ears.’ Fuck, if I live to eighty I’ll be a bundle of ears, balls and hands driving a scooter downtown to pick up the mail. Fucking damn! The youngsters have to laugh at something, I guess.