Just before we went to bed last night, we started talking about our respective heights. I thought that she was about six centimeters shorter than me, but the heights we remembered from our youths suggested a greater difference. In fact, I was supposed to be nine centimeters taller than her. And so I got a measuring tape, a piece of paper, a roll of adhesive tape, and a pen. I taped the paper to a doorframe at the height of our heads, and we started. As it turned out, she was seven centimeters shorter than me. To wit, she was half a centimeter taller than she remembered, and I was a centimeter and a half shorter than I remembered. In my case, this was shrinkage due to age. Although a centimeter and a half does not strike me as something to worry about at this stage, I started thinking about yoga as soon as I woke up. My favorite postures already focus on the spine, the suppleness of which is of vital importance, but I surely need to spend more time practicing. I cannot stop the shrinkage, but I can slow it down.