Poetess : did you see my portraits?
The real witch : hideous..
Ladies, let's take your brooms and master step one, .. kidding.
Grandma w.: I looked like this when I was fifty.
Narrator : where is my smiley face?
With beautiful pointy ears?
Inner voice : no portraits of me please.
Narrator : what is the point if this story?
I must've forgotten.
Oh, the lottery. .
The real witch : I work for my money.
Poetess : I keep seeing, imagining wrong numbers.
Aunt : imagination is art!
Grandma : my mother had imagination.
I still have benefits of her imagination,
When I was 18, she touch my hand and said,
I see you 100..
