I was a teacher once. I wanted to be it once, and this was one of my very first wants. I don’t know if I am, still, underneath all my other beings.

Then, I thought to be an artist, not knowing at all what it meant to be one. Years later I found myself being an artist, still not knowing what it means to be one, like water being very conscious of the possibility of a flood, and a draught, and the likelihood of being a small puddle being busy thinking of the clouds while remaining to evaporate.

I also wanted to be a designer, making things for others, to assist them, to make them at least happy. Then I was it once and one frantic day I thought being it would kill me quicker than nature. That day I promised to, at least once a month, make something for myself and for only myself, regardless of whether or not it would be useful for others. I thought, as I am a human being like others, something that’s useful for me might be helpful and useful to others too – because at least it is honestly tested to be helpful and useful to one human being: me. This didn’t mean I stopped being a designer.

And none of these meant I stopped being. Being is constantly changing and these days I feel so helpless because I came to want to change the whole world. Now that’s a big want. As a kid I imagined a different world; I lived in it each and every night to ease my way to sleep. Nowadays imagining is not enough. As everyone else, my being will have to stop one day. Whether I am being, or changing, or not, I keep approaching that day. I don’t have too much time.