I feel bad for those who pretend, those who exaggerate. In general, I feel bad for liars. You portray a facade to your friends during the day, and come home to face the truth. Your home is no longer a humble abode, it’s an orifice crowded with facts: stored, locked, stacked in corners. How can you live with yourself? You weave white lies into nooses to hang any hiccup in your recent tale...
The Quilt
T