Truth is no grand monolith but a gigantic pile of sand. A pile of sand the size of a crushed mountain, blown into shape by myth and perception where we pick and choose and cobble together a Dr frankenstein Mr Potato head truth from all available parts. A truth that will last forever. Ignoring completely how the winds of change had blown holes in our truths before. This truth will endure. Never noticing the constant force of the breeze pushing the grains dozens at a time to distort the image of all that came before. A memory, of a memory, of a memory, until all that is left is our sandy monolith of myth and perception.