Babies are cute

Babies are cute. They all seem to be. Parents and grandparents, they all appear to be proud when the adorable baby comes into the world. Somehow, I see things differently: all babies look alike to me.

In any case, if they are cute, something apparently happens when they grow up. In fact, the people I meet on the street were once babies, but they don't strike me as particularly beautiful.

I myself, so I was told, was an adorable baby. Yet, today, when I walk around the city, the people I come across do not seem to be struck by how beautiful I am. 

What conclusion is there to draw? The only possible one seems to be the following: beauty does not last forever, but ugliness, on the other hand, really does.