This thing called the postmodern

I would agree when you tell me that there is no truth, only points of view, because we all live it to be true, but when you turn it into a masque of truths, just long-legged flies upon the streams, I must step back. I would think it parsimonious to replace the old with the new at each discovery, and to turn allĀ  into a banal equality, each no more than a light version of what happened. You do it, we do it and say, shob’i maya, let’s close our eyes to all this. But I say, this convenient equality between incomparables presumes to do that which is the prerogative of things greater than our minds. 

I could tell you this same story a thousand times in different ways and each time the emergent picture would be true.