When I arrive home that night I drop my briefcase on the floor, not even bothering to look at it as it spills open, scattering papers across the floor, and head straight for the bathroom, covering my mouth with my hands. Loudly, noisily and without much dignity. I've lost my job, what little self-respect I might still have had left, as well as the respect of others. We lie to ourselves. We lie to others.
Lies are the oil that make the wheels of conversation run smoothly.
We may call it diplomacy, we may call them white lies, we may even just tell part of the truth, leaving things unsaid. But they're lies all the same. They have no room for colour or justifications. Today I found out. Eventually I lift my head out of the basin and turn on the tap to wash away the mess from the basin and my hands.