Before I was taken ill, I had been a spoiled child of my parents, getting things my way in the family. Once isolated and confined to a small house on the slope of the garden, I suddenly found myself in disfavour and my wings clipped. One spring evening, with myriads of flowers in full bloom in the garden, my parents held a garden party in honour of many guests, whose arrival at once filled the place with laughing chats. In the small house on the slope, I quietly lifted the curtain, only to be met by a great and prosperous world with my elder brothers and sisters and my cousins among the guests, all in jubilation. All at once, seized by a fit of forlorn rage, I could not help bursting into tears.