Even stranger is that sometimes reality can completely outdo imagination, so really, is it all that impossible that the imagination isn't simply a win...ow to other worlds? To mind-bending concepts? Windows to the vastness of existence?Nay, I say. It isn't impossible. Everything is possible, even the possibility of everything being impossible is possible, after all, mysteries are simply added evidence to the fact that the human mind is limited, and to believe anything with all of your being other. She spoke in her broken English and lapsed into French for the more difficult parts. Liz’ French was rusty but she was able to keep up.Fantine told of being born in the south of France in 1866. Her father was a captain in The Gendarmerie. Her mother was a merchant’s daughter who died in childbirth. Fantine, their only child, had lived a sheltered life cloistered behind the walls of her academy by day and under the strict watch of her governess by night. It was a very happy life and she was in. All of the men stressed how important degrees were, no matter what career the young people chose.The women were besieged by girls wanting to know everything about careers in movies, modeling, and music. They devoted a great deal of time extolling the virtues of sound educations for the young women, regardless of what career track they pursued and how successful they were.Gwen, Jordan, or some of the others were often seen taking a girl by the hand and heading into a boutique or clothing store. Tess and Dave had rung three and a half hours ago to say that they were just passing through the outer suburbs on the way out of town. The house was cleaned and the bed had fresh linen on it. He was now showered and dressed in shorts and an athletic singlet, he had drunk a beer. Dinner was cooked, he'd roasted a chicken and prepared salads earlier. Now he just had to sit and wait patiently. The days were getting longer and the warm evening breeze felt good on his bare shoulders. He picked up.