The wind is rushing after me, the clouds are soaring after me, and the moon is plunging towards me, and the savage night is in pursuit of me. And I, I’m of pursuance also- in the pursuit to find the impossible. It’s sorta like flying: the trick of throwing yourself at the ground as hard as you can and missing; like making a contradiction to the statement “you can never die the same way twice”. The possibility such as that of an impossible occurrence trembles in my mind time after time and probably because of this I’ll go to my grave still wondering how this can be.    

This impossibility is equivalent to the cloaked distress of the words, “This is who I am.” 
-Rebecca Ramnauth (8/27/13)