Song of Myself.
A human being is not static. Not capable of definition. Resumes lie. Even when they tell the truth. To define something is to kill part of it.
Life isn’t really linear. Although it’s generally perceived that way. The stories we tell are woven like snakes around a divining rod. A center of time containing all that’s ever been told and heard. Remembered and forgotten. Lost and found.
Our pasts, presents and futures are unwound, stretched flat, cut into pieces and held up with human arms. In this way they are understood by a human culture who has forgotten all but a few of the numberless dimensions, a culture who has lost its sight looking for its name.
If I tell you who I am today, by tomorrow it won’t be true. I am here to expand my ideas of myself, not to limit them. The best way to know who I am is to keep reading.
And I'll keep writing.
Until then...
Thomas
There is only one word, split into infinity.
