text: Rain pelts the single-pane windows of the New England coffee shop. In the distance, a grey sea churns, salty spray spitting from its stormy swells. “How inappropriate to call this planet Earth when it is clearly Ocean,” a wrinkle of a man mutters from the corner table as he gazes through the warped glass. His gnarled fingers clutch a delicate cup of tea that had long gone cold, but he lifts it to his lips anyhow, indulging in its floral notes. His words hook my ears and I stand, moving from my corner of the little cafe to his. I waver there, above the only other chair at his table. He doesn’t notice. I clear my throat. Still, the old man stares out the pane, at the smoky sea and the tempest beyond. “Hello,” I say. “May I join--” The old man grunts, miffed. “Took you long enough.” “I don’t understand,” I reply, lowering into the rickety chair. The old man finally looks at me, his grim eyes as grey and stormy as the sea on the horizon. “I’ve been waiting for quite some time,” he announces. “My name is Truth. You’ve been looking for me.” “Yes,” I nod fervently, a bit in disbelief but beginning to understand. “I didn’t realize I was keeping you waiting.” “I have sat here day after day, watching you sip your coffee and click away on your keys,” Truth says, his voice weakening, “waiting for you to see me. You look out this same window as I do, watch the same sea as I do, yet you still can’t see me.” “I see you now,” I tell him. “Though, you’re not quite what I expected,” I admit, suddenly a bit sheepish. “Not very pretty, am I?” Truth asks with a smile that reveals three black, rotten teeth. “Not really,” I laugh. “Well, go on,” Truth raises his scruffy eyebrows. “Ask.” “Ask what?” “Ask me your question. But be careful--I will only answer one.” “One!” I exclaim. “You will only answer one question?” Truth smiles again. “Is that really what you want to know?” “No!” I calm myself. “No, wait. That’s not my question.” Calculating so as to be sure I don’t waste my question, I slowly utter, “One... has to wonder... why Truth himself... could only answer one question.” “Ah,” Truth leans forward over his tea cup. “All humans ultimately only have one question.” I think about this for a long while. So long, in fact, that Truth takes to looking out the window again. I watch him. Then I look out the window, too. I see the choppy waves, the power of the winds--the same sea I glance day after day. After some time, I speak, ensuring a statement is what comes from my mouth. “I want to know why you gaze at the sea so,” I tell him. “Those who understand the sea understand my lessons,” Truth says, almost too softly to hear. “They know that too much of Her--too much water--can cause death. So can too little. Water is life. And, water is death.” “Tell me more,” I beg, already craving Truth’s honey-balm words. “They know She can be strong, and can be meek. Tidal waves and rain drops. Powerful, and peaceful. Terrifying, and soothing.” He looks at me again, this time stern. “They know She holds neither preference nor bias. The sea doesn’t choose who will live, or who will die. She is passionate, and ambivalent.” “I understand,” I say, choosing my next words carefully. “There is much to learn from the sea. The same thing that gives life, also causes death.” Truth lets out a sigh, then takes another sip from his cold tea. “If nature had an economy, contradictions would be its currency.” “Natures disproves itself,” I surmise. Truth beams. “The duality of reality.” “I used to think of the sea as good,” I say. “Something beautiful and full of life. But now I’m not so sure. The sea is bad.” “Tell me,” Truth leans forward, and I do the same. “Two men journey along a road, when eventually they reach a fork. One man goes right. The other man goes left. Who is correct?” “I don’t know,” I admit. “I need more information.” “There is no more information,” Truth insists. “At least not any that matters. Who made the correct choice?” I think for a while. “I suppose... neither of them did. Or perhaps they both did.” “Yes,” Truth says. “There is no right or wrong. There are only the choices we make for ourselves.” “Then the sea,” I wonder, “is neither good, nor bad. That’s why you sit here, watching the sea--because it teaches us this.” “No,” Truth shakes his head, then shrugs. “And yes. All of existence teaches us this, not just the sea. People meet me in different places. They find me everywhere, not just here with Her. Some never find me at all,” he says, solemn. Then, with a cheeky smile, “But there’s some who can’t get rid of me.” “Nothing is right and nothing is wrong,” I mumble. “That’s a bit bleak,” I decide, and Truth laughs. “At first, perhaps,” his smile crinkles the edges of his eyes. “In time, I suspect you will find it to be freeing.” “Bleak... and freeing,” I repeat, and my eyes widen as the connection forms. “Just like the sea.” “Yes. Just like Her.” Truth leans back in his chair. “Just like everything.