I wish I could- I've thought that I've come close, but owing to the fact that I died in the holocaust and have yet to nail down a solid location where I lived and near where I died, I have no vague idea what my name might have even been. Sometimes, when I look on Yad Vashem a name sounds similar, then there's a photo and I know it's not me. One of the few things I know for sure is what I looked like, because I've seen myself reflected in windows and in a tiny fragment of a mirror in memories. I saw a picture of someone I was sure was my grandfather (whom I adored-) once, but then I thought I must just be grasping at straws. The likelihood that it was even my grandfather was very slim. I guess I talk myself down a lot- it's possible that it could have been him. Long story short- I have my mind- my memories, and strong inclinations and feelings. But nothing else. In the case of other lives, a name I've always had a strong reaction to is Kate. I hate when Kates refer to themselves as Katies, because it sounds silly and modern to me. When I think of myself as a Kate, I see something in the Empire Era- early eighteen hundreds england, somewhere in the Country looking v. v. Pride and Prejudice lite.