I was thinking about my IC (identification card) and I laughed.

I would want to take away the IC number, because I was never good at figures.
I would want to take away my photo, because it hardly looks like me anymore.
I would want to take away my birthdate, because I was never born and I will never die.
I would want to take away my address, because I do not belong there.

This earth is mine to travel as a wandering breeze, this sky is mine to fly as a lonely cloud.

What is left on the card then, is my thumbprint, which I hope to leave behind in the pages of your book you called Life.