Identity theft.

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Staring at the red candle, remembering the smell of patchouli oil

Mixed with Red Leb from all those years ago.On Saturday 4th July,

1846 the  London Daily News extolled the virtues of this peculiar

Indian oil in preventing moths. Nothing to do with hippies except

India and olefactory-based  imagined communities from the past that

Have a grip that will last. Ad agencies will use the association between

Hippies and environmentalism to sell boringly green cars to the Saga

Generation. Identities are stolen all the time. We are bound together

By what we forget: and what we forget is our common link to the other.

Some crave security above all things. For them the other will always

Be anathema, an object of fear. But for me, just me, not part of any 

Community, imagined or otherwise, the enduring attachment is to emotional

Intelligence, this leaves me aghast with those who fly the flag because their

Unspoken assumption is that only those like them can share their identity.

◄ Stumbling on broken glass

A drinking man ►

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