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There Was A Time When We Were Not Sure; When We Were Born And Brought Up, Life Took Its Place And We Knew It; As We Sat On The Balcony Looking Up At The Absolute Naught, And We Don't Even Talk About It No More, It Just Seems To Happen So Ridiculously Natural

from To Understand The Underlying Premise Of The Taliban, You Must Comprehend The Fact That A Lot Of People Essentially Remain Human And Don't Become Gods Because Sooner Than Later They Have Enough Of The Unknown by Wings Of An Angel

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Wings Of An Angel Israel

My own identity feels like a construct, a collection of roles and personas worn like so many masks. Who am I, really?

Perhaps in the end, we are all just characters in someone else's novel, puppets dancing on strings we cannot see.
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