A little girl climbed
into her
grandfather’s lap and studied his white, balding head. She
ran her
fingers along the deep wrinkles and road mapped his face and
neck.
„Did god make you?“, she asked.
„yes“ he answered.
„did god makeme, to?“ she wondered.
„yes“, he replied.
„well, she shrugged, „don’t you think he’s doing a better job now
than he used to?“
