The quest for our true identity is a long journey that at times seems to fade into the opaque fog that cuts off our vision. Sometimes our identity seems so clear, sometimes completely blurred. I realized how the name, the label we put on ourselves, changes not our being, but the way others see us. Am I an anthropologist or a nomad? These names are like indicators that must tell the other how to be with us. But that is just the other person's gaze. In the end it is not who we are.

So who are we? Since I hit on the road again, I have noticed an interesting transformation. I had noticed it before, but this time it is even clearer. In my way of life, there is hardly any mirror. I can't observe my reflection at every moment. Try to count the number of times your face or body appears in a mirror in a day?

This mirror shows us the outside, it teaches us to look at our body from the outside, and often to judge it. It's so tempting to directly attach an appreciation to it in an emotion that becomes either comfortable or uncomfortable. On the road, sleeping in a tent, the mirrors are absent. No reflections for days. Instantly, the gaze changes. It turns inwards. The question of "how do I look" becomes "how do I feel?