You look in the mirror. You see a face. You name it. 'This is who I am.' But the mirror only shows one angle.

A name is a handle. You can carry it. But what you carry is not what you are. The moment you say 'I am this,' you have already stopped being that. Because what you are is not fixed. It moves. It breathes. You cannot hold water in your fist and call it a stone.

The label was never the problem. The problem was believing it was the end.