. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . where ImagInatIon comes to play

Friday, 6 June 2008


“On my mind, he imprinted his values and his morals. These were worthy of respect, I can’t deny that. But they weren’t mine, you see. Or maybe they were. I don’t know yet. What is it I truly believe with all of my heart? What is just or fair? What is love... I grew up as someone’s daughter. The freedom to create my own path was never an option. I was the daughter of the Great Bernard Sinclair II!

All I ever wanted is to be Anna. And to find out what that meant. Sons and daughters of ‘great people’ ... well ... what hope do we have of growing up to be anyone at all? And now you want to know who I am that I could have killed such a man, this great man, my father? Would I be a better person in your eyes if I’d killed someone else instead?”

“Anna Sinclair. You’re under arrest. Guess you must be relieved knowing somethin' about yourself now."


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