How to Tell a True Story
Once there was only one story, and it was true, no matter how many times you told it. Over and over this true story was told, over and over. It began to wear out, it began to come into little pieces. This was because it was pulled one way and another by the hearts of the people who told it. The people would put the story in their mouths to tell it to someone. Then their hearts would rise up into their mouths, full of wishes. Their hearts would take a corner of the story, and tug at it with all the strength of their desires, until at last the story came apart.
And still these shreds were good, and still the story was true. And the bits and pieces of the story were kept, and they were matched up with other, newer stories, and handed round this way, neatly patched together. As the new stories came apart, they were put back together in the same manner. Now the bits and pieces of the true, original story are spread all throughout the world, all over. But you can tell when you find a piece of it in something new, because it makes your heart rise up into your mouth, full of wishes.