Somewhere around your thirties, the supply starts running low. Not of energy exactly, more of willingness. The capacity to be bothered by things that do not deserve it, to attend the thing you do not want to attend, to have the argument you have had eleven times already with someone who enjoys it more than you do.
The owls on this one look like they reached that point some time ago, expressions somewhere between patient and entirely done. Nobody in this picture is giving anything away for free.
Running out is not the same as not caring, though, and that distinction is the whole point. What you are actually running out of is the willingness to spend yourself on things that never mattered, which leaves considerably more for the things that do. It is not apathy. It is aim.
The people who seem unbothered are rarely the ones who care least. They are usually the ones who worked out what was worth their attention and stopped apologizing for the rest, which takes a surprising amount of nerve the first few times you do it.
