What if I had a different name?
Gilda. A name too foreign for tropical heat. A lick at the roof of my mouth. A sigh at the end, if we're getting into phonetics.
What about Hannah? With my skin like Indian dye. A palindrome. Three alphabets mirrored.
Luna. The moon. A reflection of pure brilliance, but never anything more than a replica of light.
Names. An nonexchangeable birthday present you are forced to-
parade around on your first day of school,
reveal at that party you didn't want to go to,
lazily scribble on your worldly posessions.
No matter how much we bend or break, it's our names that stay with us. When we leave, our names will watch over our graves.
So it's only fair that we should have a say in what that name should be, don't you think?
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