The Evolution of a Story

I wanted to write my grandmother's story. Granny was granny. Like all other grannies I imagined. She looked after me when I was little and now, I try to look after her. Or I should probably say, now that I am in the UK and she is in Hong Kong, I try to look AT her. What I mean is that as a storyteller, I am attempting to look at her past and explore the evolution of a story she once told me. A story that was told with so much angst and passion, it was like watching the over dramatised mime on stage. However, she was not miming. Her storytelling had taken her somewhere else, far beyond the couch at which we sat. Her London grey eyes suggested not only recollecting this memory, but reliving the experience.