The identity of an object does not lie in its material, but in its form and purpose, which persist even through transformation. Thomas Hobbes As I trace these fragments of myself—Margaret’s scarf in the wind, James’s quiet wisdom, Angel’s laughter dissolving into Pattaya’s sky, the long gone voices —I wonder: if identity is woven fromContinue reading “Am I another Ship of Theseus?”
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Moonlit Threads, Human Ties
The sun is setting, and I sit by a window, watching the last glow of day slip into dusk before surrendering to night. On the warm October breeze, childhood finds me again. Then the mid-autumn moon is ascending to the sky – silvering the sill and the glass. Fifty-seven years ago, a ten-year-old boy wouldContinue reading “Moonlit Threads, Human Ties”
For Whoever Finds This
I’ll be honest: I hovered over the “publish” button for way too long, wondering if anyone would read what I wrote—and if it would even matter. But as I watched the words land on the screen, something shifted. Maybe it isn’t about who reads it. Maybe it’s about finding my voice—one that can tell myContinue reading “For Whoever Finds This”
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