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On truth

Truth has no substitute. The way a story unfolds, there is only one truth. It’s pure and noble, but we know all that. What we little consider is its singular relation to itself; one face of the diamond relative to all others – tarnish one and the fault is reflected everywhere else.

Lies build up and gain weight and eventually tumble over. Truth is astringent and remains one, unburdensome and self-contained. Every man may have his own truth, but if it is indeed true each is a pearl, a light unto itself and its beholder.

The way a story unfolds is a dissection only truth can withstand till the end. Holes from inconsistency illumine what’s untrue, burying that tale in its tracks, shaming its teller, often beyond redemption.

There is only one truth. All else is, sooner or later, releaved for what it’s not and discared to oblivion.

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