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Whoever.

Article Excerpt
I FORGOT WHO I WAS. I suppose it's just as well. This doorway, where I lie, is dirty. If this doorway is my doorway and if I'm dressed as I usually dress, then I can't have been a very respectable person. First thing I'll do, I'll go get something else to wear and then I'll find a good place to live. Something more like the new me. If this is a new me.

I wonder what I look like. My hands seem strong. My fingernails are clean. I'm not too fat. Am I the same sex I used to be?

Did I actually wipe out my own mind in order to start from scratch? Did I do it deliberately or was it by mistake? But what a good idea! I'm glad I thought of it. I probably got sick and tired of the way things were back in my former life.

But first I have to find a mirror to see who I am now. Or a shop window.

I get up and brush myself off. I feel a little wobbly but I don't want to stay here. Thank goodness nobody saw me lying in this dirty doorway. At least I hope nobody did.

I walk along beside the shops. I glance at myself but just every now and then. I don't let myself stand and stare at me. I don't want to be too open about it. People would think things.

What I see is a woman, not young. That figures. I'm exactly the age when it's logical to want to change your life. There's still a bit of a future in front of me.

But what about this town? It looks a little strange, though maybe it's just my nice new view of everything.

And what is the language here? I heard somebody passing by and I couldn't understand a word she said. Of course that doesn't mean anything. She could be a foreigner. I wonder what language I'm thinking in. Wouldn't it be nice if it was French? I wonder how many languages I know. How do you find out a thing like that?

I wonder what other things I might be good at. I might even be able to play the piano. I wonder if I can find a piano and check on myself. Can I paint and draw? Can I ride a horse?

Should I try some skill right now? But there's no handy piano. I'd like, if not the piano, then the violin. I hope I don't know how to play the banjo. I want a higher class life.

I cross the street to a newspaper stand and look at the headlines. I don't recognize the writing. Have I forgotten how to read?

Well, I wanted a whole new start--at least I think I did, and what better way than to appear right here knowing absolutely nothing? Just think, I can be anybody I want.

I should start planning right now. I wish I had a notebook. I'd start writing down possible...

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