Oh who am I kidding. There still are a few stubborns who refuse to yield. But more so these days there are scenes seen over the seventeen thousand odd days I have been becoming John. They all play now in my head, the silent movie of my low-budget technicolor life. I know it is now time for my voice to put words in other people’s mouths, to describe the pain on the walls of the only past I’ve ever known. How do I know this? One of those few remaining voices keeps droning on and on about it, has for years. I’m almost certain it’s God’s voice.