I’m back in the office early this morning, sipping coffee from a paper cup and peering briefly out the window to the street below. I have a few more quiet moments before the streets will begin to stir, the doors to open, the phones to ring.

It used to amaze me that the world should remain constant after a night’s sleep. The things of yesterday would merge into today, creating a seemingly seamless continuity. But I, upon waking, would question my uniformity—did my motives remain? had my plans changed? was my self was in tact?

“I wonder if I’ve been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I’m not the same, the next question is ‘Who in the world am I?’ Ah, that’s the great puzzle!”

These days, the world around me moves much too quickly. What was once here yesterday, changed today, and I seem to be the only one outside of constant flux: I rise, I fulfill my routine, I sleep. I can hardly keep up!

The files on my computer solicit my attention. I turn away from one looking glass to look into another.