You tuck away bits + pieces, disregard layers of skin. Threading together a new thesis - What a story you spin! Hide yourself, disintegrate, until you're born anew; then bloom again + contemplate all the differing hues. All the faces you have worn, the places where you hid, the songs of praise, the scolds in scorn, saccharine and then acrid. Truly now, who are you? The body or the name? Or the cells that live inside you and the energy the exchange?