i say in my head, i can't help it, can't help who i am, but it's uncomfortable, often who i am does not jibe with how i sound or appear to be. it's like i'm looking out from a little tower and seeing myself as a familiar stranger in a foreign country.

often i think to myself, look at him, that's not me. is it.

to disappear into deep water, or to disappear toward a far horizon, to become a part of depth or infinity, such is the destiny of man that finds its image in the destiny of water.

maurice blanchot,
water and dreams.