Last summer I was standing on a bridge going to an island in a lake. When I looked to the east, I saw a brilliant sunny day with sunlight glancing off the water.
When I looked to the west, I saw ominous storm clouds, the water a gray-green prediction of trouble to come.
Both of these contrary views depict the lake, both seem to offer their own version of ‘truth’. What is the ‘truth’ about this particular summer day?