She traveled. Followed his footsteps. Traveled to the places he went. Looked for people who knew him...
With the help of his own words, she put the pieces together and came up with a story about her grandfather's life. In the end, he was a montage of stories. Stories he told about himself, and stories that were told about him. And stories don't necessarily provide the truth. But maybe that was always the point. When she was little her grandfather told her he wasn't from anywhere. He was just created. She imagined him appearing out of thin air. Just starting life somewhere.
“Everyday is a holiday” - Mandrake the Magician
Love,
Käla