We cannot define ourselves by that for which we have no pallet, no tolerance – our differences.  But we try.  And so we only tolerate good taste.  But what is good taste?  Sometimes I crave salt and sometimes I crave sweet.  Sometimes whiskey and sometimes water.  I decide one day that I will always wear blue button up shirts and therefore, I am the-guy-who-wears-blue-button-up-shirts.  But sometimes I need to wear red.  On those days, do I hang my identity in the closet with my blue button ups?  Or do I reconsider who I am?  Perhaps I am who I am in relation to what is red and what is blue, what is salty and what is sweet.  And when I drink water perhaps I am quenched.  And whiskey, perhaps drunk.  And when I am one, either red or blue, and I encounter the other, I am in relation to the other (that other guy wearing red on what is clearly a blue day) and I am different but we are the same because in his closet he has blue shirts too.  And our differences point out our similarities.  And we can go our separate ways.  And on those days when everyone I encounter thirst for whiskey, as I do from time to time, we can gather like sots at the bar.