I’ve always been excited by how art allows us to look inside. This story isn’t in any way autobiographical, but it knits together some of my favourite ideas to create a picture of the human condition. Identity is the backbone of every story, every character, everyone we know. What shapes that sense of who we are is something this story explores, through the protagonist’s comparison of himself to the Roman Emperor Caligula. Caligula’s image has been twisted, he is painted as a monster, a madman, because of the stories told about him. Recently these have been disputed. I found that conflict between our own perception of our reality, and the world’s perception, exciting. Do we exist without the lies the world knows us by? This character, like Caligula, sees himself as good, but is lost in lies. These lies are tearing him down, especially with the weight of family; generational trauma follows this character, and allows a development of the Caligula metaphor. Where we find ourselves in the family dynamic is the colour of our feathers. This story is an exploration of who and what defines us. How important a role do we play in who we are, really?