After all, nothing fascinates you — or me — so much as identity. You’re constantly figuring out who you are and laying claim to the name of the hour. You define whole periods of your life by these efforts and yet never seem to actually finish it. You’re testing your boundaries as teenagers, you’re indulging in mid-life crises a few decades later, and then there’s the new and somehow undreamt-of tragedy of empty-nesting or retirement.
Who am I now compared to 5 years ago? Who will I be in five years? How many heartaches and how many heavens from identity exploration?
