Im a calm, cool collected cucumber underneath this fandangled, wiry, wrinkled visage. Ive escaped the clutches of the tangled snare of my image. Where and when I belong and to whom is no matter. I pass by groups and clans and grimace inquisitively at thier chatter. To my ears its an alien clamour of clashing egos and look at me's. They'd all be happier in a lonesome cross legged position enjoying the breeze beneath the trees. With ease I float through my day passionately. Expanding and contracting with the waves of existence. I sway indefinitely. Yield to and renounce the question arisen from the back of the mind "what does it mean to be me"