Ruimte

There's a space of truth, not that small or neglectable, between no words and no lies.

It's a space that can be called grey, that exists inside the truth. So in reality is a white space, where things are not out, but they are not lies. 

In a world where the truth is relative (because it is, each one of us see the truth has we want and it's more fit for our purposes or believes), this space is free of malice. Is a void, empty, but filled with the purity of all the things left unsaid. Unsaid things don't hurt, unsaid things are not lies neither are they truths, they are our free will to keep then inside. 

Sometimes it burn, sometimes it bliss. But the space is choice.