Thursday, July 10, 2008
A conversation with Grandpa
My grandparents had a dear friend who died many years ago. He was a white-haired sculptor who lived in a tiny studio which smelt of wood shavings and old age. Before he died, he requested that his tombstone be engraved with the following words: “The bitterest truth is better than the sweetest lie.” My grandfather has outlived his dear friend by many years, and he likes to ask me: “So...El....tell me....what is this thing called truth? Does it really exist?” I answer that some truths are open to debate, but others are irrefutable. I make my grandfather laugh.