Names. An identity tag; your label. John Smith, James Lewis, Susan Jones. Two short words sum up a whole existence, a whole life of achievements, failures... The Red Indians' system of naming by personality, names changing with age, was so much more personal. My name seems surreal to me, detached; just words on a page, vaguely recognisable. It belongs to me, yet I would throw it away with no hesitation. I hate it. It pins you down, marks you; you are no longer a free, drifting spirit, but an object in a sea of objects; a mark on a page.