Frankenstein's Monster: What Does It Mean To Be a Person?

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I sat down at the roots of a tree to draw what seemed to be a Marguerite, a delicate white flower. I was surrounded by trees and mountain tops as I doodled away with my pencil in my well-loved notebook. As is typical with dreams, I never once questioned how these things came into my possession, or even how I had arrived at such a magical place. As dusk approached, I decided to wander further into the forest, until coming across one of the most...