Pure, true, humble and timeless.

She had never really learned to speak French. But every Saturday evening she would watch the variety shows and sing along to the popular tunes of the day. Taking refuge in that magical musical moment, she would forget all her sufferings. She would forget that everyone thought of her as the village idiot, or as the little immigrant daughter of a widow bringing up five children.
Today, she is ninety-three and lives with her brother who reads to her every night from Balzac’s La peau de chagrin. For him, reading was always the key to integration and social advancement.