After two shots of patron, and a gin and tonic in hand,
he looks at me so confidently and says, you know what your problem is...?
So I look at him requesting a response with the tilt of my head and waiting eyes that say, go on, lets here this...
The problem is, he says, is that you don't know who you are and you don't know what you want.
His words are words that echo and settle, and settle, and compound into words that have been my own wordless words.