Assuming the old, stable ego is a constant from birth to death. Some would have none of that, believing we are made at any given moment. The stack of books suggests we are what we read, are composed of the voices that speak through us. Nice combo of photo and words. Provocative.
There's a typo in my response to your blog entry today but I'm fighting to not edit... You're right about the stack of books signifying the search of who we are through the voice of others. Constantly scanning the works of others until we find something that rings true and saying..."Aha, there it is, that's who I am..."
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Assuming the old, stable ego is a constant from birth to death. Some would have none of that, believing we are made at any given moment. The stack of books suggests we are what we read, are composed of the voices that speak through us. Nice combo of photo and words. Provocative.
There's a typo in my response to your blog entry today but I'm fighting to not edit... You're right about the stack of books signifying the search of who we are through the voice of others. Constantly scanning the works of others until we find something that rings true and saying..."Aha, there it is, that's who I am..."
Typo? Wahts that?
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