The Art of Fact
When we write stories, how do they ‘contain’ the truth? What is the truth? If we rely solely on memory, as in when writing memoir or autobiography? How are we ever absolutely sure that we are…telling the truth?
All right, we can research, consult old notes, photographs, other people. But. What we end up with is what Annie Dillard would call something “For The Time Being.” And. It’s only our own interpretation of [insert your own noun here] that we produce.
I believe Dillard was correct: everything is ephemeral.
And if you need the support of another sort for that concept, go to Foucault and consider his declarative title: THIS IS NOT A PIPE; add the illustrations therein by René Magritte; include the cover painting: “Ceci n’est pas une pipe.”
The truth, my truth, your truth, is such for so fleeting a time!