Who are you without your name, your status, your influence?
And what if, one morning, you wake to find that all of it has been transferred to someone else—who do you become?
You wake up, and your nose is gone.
But the most unsettling part isn’t its absence.
It’s that it now exists elsewhere—living without you.
At your desk.
Wearing your clothes.
Carrying your name.
Commanding more respect than you ever did.
What remains of a person when they no longer own their own face?
What happens when a title, a position, or a role carries more weight than the individual behind it?