Inklings 2025

made it better than before. He was that man who I saw everyday, a legacy immortalized in print, in name, in Kazumoff. What kind of legacy could I make to follow this? I’m no winemaker, no family head. I needed to earn the right to the name. From then on, Kazumoff wasn’t just a name, it was an obligation. It was a legacy to follow, a criteria to meet, a name to earn. Everytime I looked up at the picture of Narik on the wall, I was reminded of what I had to continue, what he had started. What that was, I honestly was not sure. So I did the next best thing, and followed the example of the Narik I made in my head. Every action, no matter how small or grandiose, felt like it was done with the image of Narik looming over me. Every passion of mine about finance and economics, every tournament match, each note played on the piano felt like it carried the weight of the life I had created in my head. Eventually, all the things I used to love became too much for me. Wondering if I was living up to my grandfather’s name became a way of imprisoning myself in my ow head. I realized that I wasn’t Narik, and I could never be Narik. I had to be my own Kazumoff, with flaws and hobbies and nicknames all my own. The Kazumoff that doesn’t care about scoring every goal in a match, as long as we won in the long run. The Kazumoff that tries to find even a minute of free time to use the practice room at school. The Kazumoff that forgets other people’s names, that can lose track of time too easily, that overthinks and underthink anything, no matter how minute. The legacy I leave behind is yet-to-be-seen, but it will be my own, with my own Kazumoff printed on it. This is Kazumoff, born from limestone walkways and lamp-light streets of a city that is my world, born from Miami. Light House Zachary Myones ’27 18