I close my eyes and this image floats beside me. A madman. A crazy madman. A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain. His hands reach out and choke me. And all the time he’s mumbling Truth. Truth is like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold. You push it, you stretch it, it will never be enough. Kick at it, beat it and it will never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it will just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream.