We recognize truth because it sits so nicely on our bones. The first time you put on your favorite shirt, the one you never wanted to take off, the one that seemed designed for you, sewn thread by thread for the shape of you, it snuggled over the folds of you, and you felt invincible maybe or fresh. In the same way, truth alights on you and becomes a part of you—yours till it falls away in ragged, unusable tatters.
Truth is not spoken but worn. We wear our truths for the world to see.
Flaw Salad 
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