Our stories are the tellers of us.
At some point you just have to turn around and face your life head on.
Sad words are just another beauty. A sad story means, this storyteller is alive
The ways in which we are able to express courage also depend on the hand life deals us.
My paternal grandmother drove ambulances during the regional Blitz, in Birmingham.
My maternal grandmother was in London during the Blitz. Indeed, the man she was dating before she met my grandfather was killed beside her in a cinema, in 1941, when a bomb came through the roof - a tragedy in which she herself was badly wounded.