We all think our identity is fixed, or at least firm. Nothing about that is true, the moment we decide to act differently then that phantasmal moment has become part of our identity. Is it a prison? It can be, if thatās what your imagination tells you it is. is it an escape? Well, if you let it, certainly.
A constant battle of optimism and pessimism and wondering which one is the reality of the situation (like there even is such a thing) I and everyone find ourselves in.
stating āIn a world which really is topsy-turvy, the true is a moment of the falseā madeĀ HopesAndDrumsĀ ponder: was this astoundingly prophetic or always true/false?
