King Lear looked at Princess Cordelia. “Princess Cordelia, this is not fiction, it is life”. “King, if it is not fiction, why do you say everything is not perfect? Did you banish me from your kingdom too early?” “Princess, that is for the story, a tragedy, or an epic for fools to cherish. This is the reality where you are right, and I am wrong. Cordelia, say nothing, follow your bonds, long live. It wasn’t perfect like a photo or a painting. The artist sees what the admirers do not. The picture becomes perfect when everyone sees everything.” “So, my King, there is something untold and unseen by the naked eye and that will take me back to where I was, to the abode of your kingdom, your heart?” “Princess, the truth is not as it appears. You did not go anywhere, only the story went.” “Then why untold and unseen?” “Cordelia, it is an art. Art of reality, that unfolds through epics and sub-stories.” “I’m your favourite kid!” “You do always my Princess. Now listen. This makes the picture co