Saturday night, I watched a movie. It was about water, love, and how neither can be contained forever. Sunday afternoon, I caught a few minutes of a podcast about a wall that (depending on whom you ask) does and does not exist between the Koreas.
Both texts seem to advocate letting water, in all its literal and metaphorical forms, find its own level. Put another way: Let people figure out their own shapes versus boxing them in.
Such forces of containment are writ large in each text: government, family, media, culture, habit, to name a few. While these exert pressure on me, too, on my mind's periphery lately are boxes I don't -- can't? -- see, implicit biases hemming in my identity for now.