I have no birthday. I don’t know when I was born. New Year is my day of celebration. I treat it as my birthday. It’s the day I can think about how old I am and how much time is left.
I have no name. Only adjectives. And they change. It depends on how I feel at the moment.
I have no creed. I don’t have certain ideas as most people do. I just have emotions and wistful thoughts when I’m well fed.
I have no nation. I’m a fugitive from tyranny of ideas. Unwelcoming wilderness is my home. My triumph is whenever I can find food and mock hunger.
I’m a slave to my adoration of beauty. I have pledged to resist freedom. Everywhere I’m in chain. I flee from one ruin to another dreaming about lost dogmas.