‘Interim – Who am I?’ Who am I? It was a question that obsessed me as a kid – I was lying inside a cardboard box in the backyard staring up at the sky, maybe all of four-years-old, when it first occurred to me. But it really harangued me when I was ten or eleven. Usually, it would get to me when I lay in bed. Or just when I was sitting around. Any time I wasn’t distracted, really. My mind would turn inward, ask the question, and try to peel away the layers to get to the truth – whatever that might’ve been. There are the obvious answers, the…