I don’t recall reading bedtimes stories when growing up, but, I recall interesting stories that were told.

I remember the conversations I heard as a little girl to the folktales shared by families, neighbours and friends. Part of me contains songs, poetries and the vivid images of scary monsters painted to scare.

Imaginary plays, make-believes and visits to relatives occupied most of the summer holidays. With foods and songs, long lost friends who came around to visit each having a story to tell.