It wasn’t the story of meadows that captivated her but the horror tales of childhood fears being alive, tales of lost lovers and stories whispering the silent screams of people unheard. ‘cause these were the tales through which emerged the real winners, the true believers, forged and beaten by life arose the victors of every era. Those were the tales she lived for . . ’cause nothing is more beautiful than the being who has been through all and has that knowing enigmatic smile… a beacon of hope. . Of striving … Of having lived!