Who are you? Who am I? For that matter, who are any of us? Roshi Hogan is no more Roshi Hogan than that pile of dirt. Someday in fact, Roshi Hogan will be a pile of dirt, and ash, carried away by the winds to a fate unknown. None of us are who we think we are. None of us are who others think we are. We are only known to the unknown. It matters not our names, or our station in life, the game ends and we all turn into a pile of dust.