Once upon a time – for that is how all stories should begin – there was a boy who lost his mother.

Stories come alive in the telling. (…)They lay dormant, hoping for the chance to emerge. Once someone started to read them, they could begin to change. They could take root in the imagination and transform the reader. Stories wanted to be read.

This world was not like the world of his stories.

These were the tales that echoed in the head long after the books that contained them were cast aside.

The stories in books hate the stories contained in newspapers.