“You’re very good at telling stories, grandpa.”
“Thank you my child, it is very kind of you to say so.”
“Do you enjoy telling stories, grandpa?”
“I suppose I do. I don’t think I would be telling them if I didn’t.”
“Is it hard to tell stories?”
“It gets easier with practice.”
“What’s the hardest part about telling a story?”
“You are a curious one, do you know that? But then is it not the role of children to be curious?”
“Grandpa!”
“Very well! Let me think… I should say the hardest part about telling stories is to know where they begin and where they end. Stories are curious things, much like you; they are quite unpredictable. They are alive, weaving and waning, like the flowing of a river. Those who tell stories only tap into this flow as it makes its way to its destination. The hardest thing to learn is where to tap into it and where to leave the flow, for the rest will pour out by itself.”
“You’re very wise, grandpa.”
“I wish your grandmother held the same opinion. Now, enough of your little interrogation. It’s time for bed.”
“Ok grandpa. Thank you for the story.”
“Sleep tight.”
“Goodnight, grandpa.”
“Goodnight.”
“Grandpa?”
“Yes?”
“What does interrogation mean?”
