Art Verité Gallery

The time has passed when truth meant treading down a well-paved path lit by the sun of seemingly singular reasoning. We find that the paths are many, for better or worse. These stray and meander, and when the forks confound, even the well-meaning confuse persistence with correctness. Or so we sometimes swear by the blinding light of our phone screens.

What was it? The lie oft told. We defy our feet made swollen by circular roads with such doggedness. Chased, unfortunately, by the fear that we might be wrong, we paradoxically insist on this. One. Path.

We were not made for these choices. For these many lights. We seem to have only survived by virtue of dichotomies. Do or die. Good and evil. Black and white. Spare us a sea of gray and give us highways that plow through all nuance, at the expense of the smaller, quieter truths of others.

To err is human. To err is easy. And to recognize where we have gone wrong, to try and pick up another path, are leagues harder. But it might save us still.