As I look to the future, what if the one prospect that scares me is the one I am supposed to pursue?
What is a line?
I think it took leaving my home and finding a home thousands of miles away to make me understand that I have no real home.
Is my identity defined by my beard? If not, then why don't people recognize me now that it is shaved? Am I not me anymore?
There is a person who is me sitting on the tip of my tongue waiting to be uttered into existence.
What if balance is everything?
I want to go to Tehran someday.
Is there a difference between dissatisfaction and discontent?
Autumn is beautiful, and the beauty of Autumn is the beauty of death, and truth is beauty, and all truth is God's truth, so what does that make death?
I have never felt more like a stranger in a foreign land than I do at this point in my life.
1 comment:
i love the growth that is shown in these couple of questions that you ask the world and yourself. And for the record, I recognized you without your beard. :)
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