Joan of Arc

So my niece was telling me the story of Joan of arc, a peasant girl who got the entire French army to follow her, she died at 19, burned at the stake, this story made me cry, partly for Joan… but partly for my niece believing in a girl who lived 600 years ago, it made me remember that I was like that once too.. I mean we all were, as we get older, we forget to believe in imagination… my niece has faith, that her father will come home in one piece, that tomorrow will be better than today, that she can be brave, that she can be st. Joan. I guess what I am saying is, let’s not forget to believe, let your imagination rule, again. Or something like that…