Potap was used to it; every time his wife was in one of her moods, it was best for him to just shut up and listen silently to everything she had to say or shout at him. He also had to be mindful of his body language. Smiling could be taken the wrong way, being too serious or glum too. He had to hide behind a mask of something in-between. Then the hug would follow. That was his final master stroke as he held Andreana’s sobbing body. Continue reading Dear Child