Dear esteemed Philosopher, composer, musician,  artist, an intimate friend.

Many thanks for your kind words.

It has been a highlight of my life knowing you.

Me, never a master, only a keen life-observer, curious as a child, with a mind unformed, with a glass only 10% full, a **** among flowers, a worshipper of beauty and the sublime,  patiently waiting for my garden-heart to bloom some day, vox clamantis in deserto.

I know what I am and what I am not.
I am a moth and should not aim for the stars.
The best part of my life is to have learnt to love myself
although I didn't know how to in my younger days.

Life is a friend or enemy, most people tend to think so
but as for me,  a Zen-person,  I don't aim to define, classify or  categorise---
life is what it is, as the sky and the sea, the flowers and the fields as what they are ---
they exist but don't question why they exist.

Self-definition is mostly false as the person chooses the most beautiful words to describe themselves and the myth perpetuates.  As such, it's hard to think there's an 'intrinsic self' as mentioned by the philosophers, psychologists and sociologists.

If I were to choose a label of myself,
I would just mention these 3 simple words:
'I am human'.