about me

when I was a young lass, an old woman stopped me on the street while I was walking home after volleyball practice.

she told me, in her raspy voice: 

"I doth not speak the truth but dost that make me a liar? what is true is a moral placebo. only sticklers who knowst not the value of fiction ask solely for the truth. what is untrue can hold the same value as fact. such lies art not white; they can be dyed to match any color of the rainbow."

she then went on to say: 

"be wary, child. for what is true you may not hear and what you hear may not always be true. worry not about fact or fiction, but the intentions of those who seek to influence you."

after those words, she flung her long wool brocade outwards quite dramatically and flew overhead, vanishing completely. 

I never saw her again. 

I often wonder what she's up to now...maybe bingo!