There was a time when he didn’t chase after the eastern wind or send pots of olive oil to his greatest enemies. It was a time long ago when he grasped his brother’s heel tightly so he wouldn’t be left behind; a time when he’d come across challenges that seemed impossible to overcome and wrestle them to the ground.
He could swear that he was a different man, because even though he can remember the things he said and did, they seem clouded, like trying to catch fish in milky waters.
He still can’t tell which is the true him. But for now, he feels like putting on a different set of clothes, so he can figure out which set is more of a disguise. Or maybe all his clothes are disguises he changes into, and although he hypothesises that he should be the most comfortable when he’s stark naked, it only works when he’s by himself with his eyes closed.
The important thing is to never stop looking. So while he waltzes around town kissing golden cows on the lips, he keeps an eye out for the latest fashions, and hopes that something interesting will happen.