HOLLY MIRANDA SMALE

Writer, photographer, "rapper" and general technophobe takes on the internet in what could be a very, very messy fight. But it's alright: she's harder than she looks, and she's wearing every single ring she could get her hands on.







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Friday, 30 April 2010

Bending truths

"Was that a real dream?" my sister asked. "I know how you`re prone to making things up a bit."
"It was a real dream," I said without any indignation at all, because she`s right: I have no issues with bending the truth now and then if it needs to be bent. The world is a better place because of bent truths (not because of lies; they are very different things).
"All of it?"
"All of it. Every single bit of it. Even the red hat."
"Oh. What about the dream before it? The one with the chopstick?"
"Also 100% true." Because dreams are the one thing you shouldn`t lie about: they are already bent truths without any help from us.
My sister considered it.
"Wow," she said. "Your dreams are seriously easy to analyse, aren`t they. Mine usually involve flying dogs and massive marshmallows."
"Also easy to analyse," I pointed out. "You want a dog and you like marshmallows."
"Very true. Mmm. Do they have marshmallows in Japan?"
"Yes. Lots."
"Ooh, good," she said, because she`s visiting in August. "So we`re all going to wait for a green eyed man to turn up, are we?"
"No," I frowned at her. "That`s the point; I`m not waiting for anything anymore."
"Oh yeah." There was another pause. "One question."
"Mmm."
"Are your ghosts actually from Butlins, do you think?"
"Probably not. I`ve never been there."
"Didn`t think so. Well, I`ll keep an eye out anyway. A green one."

And with that she laughed and was gone and the room was empty again.