Friday, July 20, 2012
Who am I
Sitting at a Seattle with my mug already cold, the mocha foam dry and stiff like frozen algae, I watch my many faces in the crowd go by.
Half-way through my life, with a tortoise-heavy-shell of choices attached to my back, I have one predominant question that I need to answer before launching into my second-half: who am I?
Only once I've answered that question can I ask, where to from here?
Prayer: please mould me into me, so that I can - authentically - be me.