We've all encountered them: tales that shimmer with emotional truth, narratives that resonate so deeply, we accept them as gospel. Take the story of Albrecht Dürer's "Praying Hands." A heart-wrenching tale of brotherly sacrifice, a coal-dusted hand forever stilled, a masterpiece born of love. It’s a story that paints a vivid picture, a narrative that elevates a simple depiction of hands to a symbol of profound devotion. Except, it isn't true. Dürer's path was paved by his goldsmith father, not a brother's toil. Yet, the story persists, whispered and retold, because it taps into something profoundly human: our longing for meaning, our desire for narratives that reflect our deepest values. This begs the question: how often do we embrace stories, not for their factual accuracy, but for their emotional resonance? How often do we blur the lines between "what is" and "what feels true"? We are, after all, storytelling creatures. We...