When I climb the stairs am I still that same person when I reach the top? Numerically yes. But time has passed, and more than this, I have perhaps felt the smoothness of the banister or suffered its splinters, enjoyed the softening tread of the carpet or twisted an ankle. If I am two years of age, or ninety-two, I may have revelled in a climb unaided. Aged twelve or twenty-two I may have hastened, for different reasons, breathlessly escaping the one behind whose laughter blends with mine. Perhaps I have anticipated the turn of the staircase once again and sampled the interplay of light and colour on each facing wall. Maybe I listened to the way this particular staircase speaks; how it funnels the sounds that traverse it. I have worked with my body and employed my brain in any number of unique thought-combinations. In climbing the stairs I have lived life that will not be lived again; I am the same person, but not in the same way that I was. Whether tacitly or explicitly, even this experience of ‘making one’s way’ in the world contributes to my identity, for meaning can be attributed to each contributory element; to audit and authenticate this meaning is identity-sense.