Truth is a butterfly.

That night she dreamed that a small butterfly had swiftly landed on her bare arm. Its flimsy wings were a translucent black with a few colorful spots. She woke up with this image in her mind: truth is a butterfly. At first she couldn’t grasp the meaning. It was all too simple for her. She was used to analyzing dense texts, the nuances of symbols. The fascinations of double entendres, sub texts, intertexts. Truth is a butterfly? How can a concept like truth be so reduced? But simplicity has a way of sticking like a chewing gum, like that foolish verse that keeps playing on your mind over and over again.

Truth is a butterfly. Truth is a butterfly. Truth is a butterfly.

It baffled her. The simplicity of the sentence. The predictability of its grammatical structure: noun, verb, article, noun. Granted, the last noun could also work as an adjective, something that qualifies the noun. An adjective lends the noun its face.

A butterfly
(to be continued…)

Advertisement

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s