Fifty years seem like an eternity. Her travails are sufficient material for three books – all from different perspectives, with different protagonists.

Eternity may count like a nanosecond in some other parts. But truth feels like fiction, when it is so far away.

Her grandchildren did not believe her when she told them she was dropped in the city through those circular lights, from a spacecraft.

How could she claim to be an alien, when her genes had been transferred to Planet Earth? She adores these tiny tots – they are blessed with Innocence – not known in other parts of the universe.

23 thoughts on “Fiction

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