The white house was home to women of all corners of the world. It sat by the water bank, far from the edge of town and far from critical eyes. Dew lived there for a long time, since she was a small child, her future determined years in advance. She was a lean, tall woman with shiny long black hair. Hey silky dark skin gracefully contrasted with her big green eyes, and men were mesmerized by her beauty. The soft lines of her faces didn’t make justice to the burdens of daily life. Stoic in demeanor, she never considered her life to be but one of many options until the day she found an old pair of horn-rimmed glasses one of the men had left behind. She could see again! A curious mind at heart, she began to show interest in reading, something she never really liked. She read everything, flyers, posters, magazines, newspapers, books. She would ask her clients to bring her books, since the women were not allowed to go to town. She read Somerset Maugham, T.S.Eliot, Joyce, Kafka, and many others. Then there was Shaw. And she knew she could change even being in her later years. So, Dew moved to town, opened a bookstore and the soft lines of her smile gracefully made justice to the joys of her life.