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Who am I?

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About this blog

A journey of self-discovery, reflection, and creativity. Who Am I? is a blog where personal stories, life lessons, and musings on identity come to life. This space is for anyone curious about the twists and turns that shape who we are. Pull up a chair, dive into the words, and let’s figure it out together—one story at a time

Entries in this blog

On Letting Go

To those that we leave behind. I am in my massage class. Outside, the rain is pouring, loud, relentless, and we stop, just for a moment, to listen. Melbourne has been sweltering for days now, the kind of heat that clings to your skin, the kind that makes you grab for a cone of ice cream, so the rain feels, for once, like a gift. There are five of us today, just five, and Gulchin is teaching us about releasing tight spots. We go into pairs, like always. One on the table, the other

Philip

Philip in Past

On Transient

To the moments that pass us by. I am at work, speaking to Paul, one of our new operators here at Michelin. He is an exceptionally good worker—perhaps the best thing that has happened to the factory since I started here, seven years ago. He asks me, why am I still here, in this factory, one that pays below the Australian average income, with the degree and background that I possess? He asks if I ever felt that I wasted my degree in Food Technology, the one I acquired over a decade ago.

Philip

Philip in Past

On Legacy

To the imprints that we leave behind.   I am at work, and I look around me, and work is running smoothly today—even with Paul’s absence. And I can’t help but ask myself, with Paul’s departure, how has the transition of the factory into normalcy been? And I can’t help but answer it— nothing has really changed.   I asked Jordan a similar question, and he echoed the same response to me, that everything is exactly the same as it was before Paul arrived and worked here.

Philip

Philip in Past

On Letting Go Part 2

To the places we leave behind.    Lately at work, I’ve been feeling like I’m in this small box. A box that once was able to contain a piece of me—very comfortably, very safely. But now, I feel that the box is getting smaller. And I don’t have the room to stretch my arms, to extend my legs.   And sometimes, I find it hard to breathe.   Or sometimes, after I come back from travel, I feel that I’m in this small bubble. And all I know about my life is contained within this

Philip

Philip in Past

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