...she's Understood The Power Of Stories. Their

...she's Understood The Power Of Stories. Their Magical Ability To Refill The Wounded Part Of People.

There’s Something About Hospital Walls; Though Only Made Of Bricks And Plaster, When You’re Inside Them The Noise, The Reality Of The Teeming City Beyond, Disappears; It’s Just Outside The Door, But It Might As Well Be A Magical Land Far, Far Away.

Cassandra's Grandmother Smiled Then, Only It Wasn't A Happy Smile. Cassandra Thought She Knew How It Felt To Smile Like That. She Often Did So Herself When Her Mother Promised Her Something She Really Wanted But Knew Might Not Happen.

Children Don’t Require Of Their Parents A Past And They Find Something Faintly Unbelievable, Almost Embarrassing, In Parental Claims To A Prior Existence.

Wars Make History Seem Deceptively Simple. They Provide Clear Turning Points, Easy Distinctions.: Before And After, Winner And Loser, Right And Wrong. True History, The Past, Is Not Like That. It Isn't Flat Or Linear. It Has No Outline. It Is Slippery, Like Liquid; Infinite And Unknowable, Like Space. And It Is Changeable: Just When You Think You See A Pattern, Perspective Shifts, An Alternate Version Is Proffered, A Long-forgotten Memory Resurfaces.