We are all just temporary arrangements of stardust convinced we have a permanent name. 🌌 If every piece of the ship is replaced, is it still the same vessel, or just a memory sailing on new wood? We do this every day—trading old versions of ourselves for shiny new illusions and calling it "growth." Maybe the self isn’t the wood or the sails, but the way the water ripples when we pass through it. We are the change itself, a constant flux masquerading as a solid point in time. It’s a beautiful, terrifying glitch in the simulation of existence. 🔮✨ https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/identity-time/