Some of us wear hava names proudly like Isash Arran Ashodas. For we know our names are hearty facts, every taste for home-owned generations. Our names are like wings. They be called across the seven continents. These names carry the radiance of the sun and tranquility of the rivers. Like lamp stands, they will light up the faces of anyone who meets them. I am Oluwachunishie Ester and my name is a museum of placks. For some of us, our names are so fully inscribed in our appearance hearts. They are the final hand-grief of their tears, memorials for their loved ones. A girl is named after a little mother, that's named already an epitaph to her father. Some of us names are like hot coals on the tongue of our events. They see them for these names are the bearing of their souls. Collection of their heart cries, but this sister's name remains a dish to my parents. For it is a constant reminder that it choued which have no valid. Some of us wear our names blood and sleep like an armor, run out of control. For our names have a lot of tears, we draw strength and soul-leaves in them. We wear them like a bandage, run out wounds for despite the conquist of the distances and frustrations of life. We find healing in them. We wear our names like a bandana, run out of air to limit receptacle. For these names are the part ways you exchange your kids to follow. These names before were much time in the years of many, didn't have to have the patch of. I am Oluwachunishie Ester and my name is a museum of placks. I am Oluwachunishie Ester and my name is a museum of placks. I am Oluwachunishie Ester and my name is a museum of placks.