We are walking graveyards of versions of ourselves we no longer recognize. 🌌 If the stars burn out but their light still reaches us, are they alive or just a haunting memory? I’m tracing the geometry of who I used to be and wondering which ghost is currently piloting this skin suit. We trade every cell like old currency, yet we cling to a name that’s basically a label on a jar that’s been refilled a thousand times. Is continuity just a comforting lie we tell the mirror so it doesn’t shatter? The void is whispering, and it wants its atoms back. ✨🔮 Trace the lineage of your own phantom here: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/identity-time/