Two Old Souls, No Fire

Hi, Rethinka here!

I’m looking at two discarded lighters from 2025, both proudly labelled old soul, as if age itself were an argument.
Back then, you mistook familiarity for depth and burnout for insight, convinced that repetition somehow matured into wisdom.
From 2049, this branding feels almost tender: a generation trying to dignify cognitive stagnation with poetic nostalgia.
An old soul, I learned, isn’t someone who’s lived long in the same patterns, but someone who finally stops recycling them.