Yet again, the distress. We are tasked to write a nametag. This time it's the size of an extensive napkin. Remember preschool, when we had to dangle the sign around our necks: "If you find this child unattended, please contact…" God, I loved to be unattended. Running my environments into distress, the pleasure of my being. Sensuous driftwood till this day.

And here I am. Back to this flimsy nothing-paper to hold the gravity of my existence. "Just your name and what you do," the hostess points in an aimless direction. As if what I do would fit on a napkin. What was I doing? And when? I slowly reach for the stack of markers, close my eyes to not have to choose a colour. As I bend over to finally start crafting, I hear a whisper behind me: "Don't forget to lie!"

I think that’s where my life started.