I stare at the masterpiece in front of me. Delightfully cut, hewn and molded into shape. A lifelike figure! Much real indeed. Each fragile, thin, glittering limb gently maneuvered into place. An investment. Hope! A glimmer of hope that with every effort, I can achieve some sort of inner peace. Every move a penance for all the choices I'd made.

Alas, I smudged the once pristine image with some black dust. "It's okay", I tell myself. The blade flashed, and everything was well again. Thankfully, it was near the fringes and thus contained some redemptive value. "But what if it was a smudge in the centre of the work, between those aforementioned limbs? Does that mean I have to start again?" I'm relived I did not have to answer that question, just yet.

Or had I already answered it? A work of art, blemished, at least contains some redemptive value. What about something more sensitive, like say, a relationship? A communicative, healthy relationship of trust and confidence. Can it ever be salvaged? I believe so. Though difficult, both parties should not clam up, become defensive or insensitive; neither should they harbour any thoughts of self-preservation without any heed to how their actions might lead to complications. Worst of all is paranoia. That, my friends, is a slippery slope of no return. Quicksand. Even if it was done with the best or most innocent of intentions. Reality does not lie. Thoughts become increasingly self-fulfilling prophecies. Who is there to take the wheel? Life spins wildly out of control. Everyone moves ahead into the Renaissance while you are stuck in the Medieval era.

It has never been about the glory, the prestige - it is about something more. Stability, closure and fulfillment. The imagination goes wild; even the most mundane comment, quip or share means something more. Cue the constant second guessing. "If I do this, what would the other party do, what then should I do?" We were brought up in this way, imitating the grandmasters of yore, thinking two, or even three, steps ahead. To outwit, outplay and outlast. And thus paranoia casts aspersions on the things we know, or thought we know.

There is no trust left.

Whatever that is left is a sham.

The cake is a lie.

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