We are awash in time, savoring a few moments of it; we project ourselves into it, reinvent it, play with it; we take our time or let it slip away: it is the raw material of our imagination. Age, on the other hand, is the detailed account of the days that pass, the one-way view of the years whose total sum when set forth can stupefy us. Age wedges each of us between a date of birth that, at least in the West, we know for certain and an expiration date that, as a general rule, we would like to defer. Time is a freedom, age a constraint. Augé proves age is unrelated to the development of consciousness, desire, and representations of the self. In bold, eye-opening strokes, he isolates age as a physical marker and casts one's youthful approach to the world as the true measure of life's value.
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"Augé looks at how people - himself included - confront their age at different moments in their lives; what it means to 'assume' one's age and how events mark our lives. There are in our time no writers who possess similar ease and command in turning autobiography into anthropology." - Tom Conley, Harvard University







