Talking Back To Parmenides

He was taller than I expected. Standing at the white city gate Parmenides of Elea patiently waited. What year is this? He asked. 2005, I said. All these years, he murmured. Yes, I nodded, you were born More than twenty five centuries ago. You were writing in hexameters About the Way of Truth And the Way of Seeming, I reminded him. Yes, I remember that, he said. My memory is as good as in my youth. I used to delve into the Enigma of Being In the quest for finding the hidden heart of Certainty and permanence. We were silent for a while. And then I said: I read in a Dictionary of Philosophy That you believe that reality does not change And is unknowable. Well, I still believe that, Parmenides said. In that case let me ask you this: If reality is unknowable Then how do you know That it does not change?