It’s like this is the first time I’ve ever heard my own name. What an unlikely combination of letters. The way it sounds to my ear, so strange, so foreign to who I’ve become. How so much I’ve changed and yet my name remains, a reminder that no matter what I do, I will still be called by my name.
But what is a name other than a label? Not even a description. Like a dog, I slobber and run towards the bell that is my name.
Who I am is built on the many meanings and origins of my name. I am the hero of the myths written in my name. I am defined and defiled by my name.
I have already become so many things because of my name and I’m barely born.
Photo by Junior Moran
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