"An Identity in crisis".
A child of the soil. A son of the dirt. Molded by the caring arms of the mother land. Natured from birth by her stern love, Welded into shape by the soft touch of her rough hands. What has become of the molded son? Is this what the humongous hands of the potter envisioned him to be? And those “words”, what were their vision? Was it a son who forgot not of the blood that ran through the clay that molded him? A descendent who forgot not the roots that hold deep in the soil that birth him? The grandchild who remembered always the vast and rich culture of generations and generations imbedded in his DNA? Has he possibly shone away from this vision? An Afro born child of the 21 st century, Adopted and bred by the ever evolving mother Tech. Mother to the fiercely competitive house of generation Z. god son of father globalization. Loyal brother to sister social media. His eyes and heartbeat, a gift from the constant rapid evol...