Fairy Tales to Heal Your Inner Child

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Once, there was a little boy with a rose that he held in his hand, who searched the world for someone he could hand it to.

“Do you want my rose?” he asked a girl eating an ice cream on the street. She laughed and scoffed at him. “Why would I want a stupid flower? I don’t care for roses. I only care for things I can eat, like this ice cream.”

The little boy sighed softly, and walked away, his head hanging low. Then he noticed an old man walking with a cane.

“Do you want my rose?” he asked hopefully.

“A rose?” he exclaimed. “Why would I want a rose? Roses don’t make you rich or wealthy. They’re useless in this world. Now money—if you had that to give, I would take it.” He shook his head, and continued walking.

The little boy felt himself slowly becoming discouraged. “Surely someone will want and appreciate my rose,” he thought to himself. And so, he decided to continue searching.

He approached a woman gathering groceries. “Do you want my rose?” he asked hopefully.

“A rose!” she mumbled, rolling her eyes. “They are my least favourite flower. I much prefer lilies, daffodils, and tulips. Anything but roses. No thank you, little boy.” She briskly walked away.

And this continued, as the young boy continued to ask each passerby on the street if they would like his rose, and each time, his gift was rejected.

As time passed, the little boy began to lose faith and trust in the rose. “This rose must not be worth anything if no one wants it or appreciates it,” he thought to himself.

The little boy sat sadly on a park bench nearby, and clutching his rose, he began to cry. And as he was crying, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a lake.

“No one loves my rose. And so I should just throw it away into this lake,” he thought to himself.

And so, he went to throw the rose into the lake. But then he glimpsed his reflection, staring back at him, holding the rose. And he realised he had never noticed its beauty before.

He stood there, in silence and awe, appreciating the way that it looked so bright in the sun. He stared at the rose and whispered softly, “I see your beauty. I will take care of you. I will give you the love and the attention that all of the others couldn’t.”

And he smiled, and placed it in his front shirt pocket, where he could wear it. And everywhere he walked, he walked proudly with his head held high. He didn’t speak a single word, but the rose sparkled in the sunlight.

And to his surprise, people on the street started to notice what they had never noticed before.

“What a beautiful rose!” one old lady shouted warmly. “You must be proud of wearing it.” “Thank you.” he replied proudly.

“I really like your rose,” another boy smiled cheerfully. “Thanks!” he exclaimed.

And then, he felt a tap on his shoulder, from behind him.

“Excuse me.” he heard a voice. “I love your rose. It is one of the most beautiful roses I have ever seen.”

He turned around. And there was a little girl holding an identical rose.

Words by Tahlia Hunter

Once there was a fish with beautiful rainbow scales, who was considered the most beautiful fish in the sea. But deep down, he felt unloved.

Ever since he was young, the Rainbow Fish had been told by all of the other fish:

"You are too beautiful.” 

“You are too colourful.” 

“You are too shiny.” 

And this made the Rainbow Fish sad.

And so, one day, the Rainbow Fish had a bright idea. “Maybe, if I shine a little bit less, then I will be loved,” he thought to himself. And so, the Rainbow Fish removed one scale.

The next day, the Rainbow Fish still shone and sparkled bright, but now slightly less. And then he encountered another fish close by, who told him with a sigh, “It makes me feel unhappy and bad about myself to see you shining so brightly with so many scales and attracting so much attention. Do you think you could remove one?”

And so, the Rainbow Fish took it off. And the other fish smiled in gratitude. “Now we look slightly more the same.”

And this made the Rainbow Fish feel slightly uncomfortable deep down. But he thought to himself, “The other fish was happy, so surely removing the scale was right.”

The next day, the Rainbow Fish met another fish. “I feel so dull and plain when I am next to you.” the fish confided in him. “I feel that there is nothing special about me in comparison.”

And so the Rainbow Fish offered to remove a third scale, so that he now shone much less than before.

And this continued each day, until one day, the Rainbow Fish had removed every beautiful scale he had, and now he blended in much better with every other fish in the sea.

But something still didn’t feel right to him, deep down inside. Yes, the other fish seemed slightly nicer and friendlier to him than before, and felt less uncomfortable in his presence.

But the Rainbow Fish thought sadly, “All the other fish are so beautiful in their own unique way. I wish that they could see their own beauty.

And I wish that they could see that my beauty takes nothing away from their own.”

And so, slowly and bravely, the Rainbow Fish gathered back each scale he had ever removed from his life, until he was his beautiful, bright, shiny and colourful self once again, and was shining just as brightly as before.

At first, the other fish were shocked. "Who are you to look so beautiful?" they asked. “Who are you to look so colourful? And who are you to shine so brightly?”

But the Rainbow Fish simply smiled gently and continued swimming along his merry way.

But there was one small change that he made. Whenever the Rainbow Fish had the chance, he would find something to appreciate or admire in the other fish: Perhaps the shape of their fins, or the texture of their scales—but many times, there was something to appreciate that had nothing to do with how they appeared: how gracefully they glided through the ocean, or how peaceful their presence was.

And slowly, over time, many of the other fish began to recognise that all the beauty they ever saw in the Rainbow Fish was really a reflection of their own. And by shining brightly, he was giving them permission to do the same.

And this made the Rainbow Fish happy.

But not all of the fish did. Some fish still felt unhappy when they saw him. Some fish still made mean remarks when they saw him shining.

“You are too beautiful.” 

“You are too colourful.” 

“You are too shiny.”

And this slightly troubled the Rainbow Fish. But deep down, he knew that this was not his fault. And that he was not responsible for making the other fish feel more comfortable or beautiful by shining less. And perhaps one day, they would discover this too. And this gave the Rainbow Fish comfort.

And then, one day, the Rainbow Fish met another small fish who he had never seen before who was just as colourful as him.

The small fish said, “I have never worn my rainbow scales before. Ever since I was a little fish, I have been afraid of fully shining and showing my true colours. But now that I have met a beautiful Rainbow Fish like you, who is not afraid of shining and being seen, and looking different, I too have learned to embrace my beauty.

Thank you for teaching me that there is no such thing as being 'too beautiful,'  'too colourful,' or 'too shiny.' None of those things exist.

And thank you for teaching me to help the other fish see their beauty by seeing my own.”

And this made the Rainbow Fish happy.

Adapted from and inspired by "The Rainbow Fish" by Marcus Pfister (with love and appreciation for the original version)

Words by Tahlia Hunter

Once there was a tree who loved a little boy very, very much, as much as she loved herself.

And so, she learned the art of receiving: so that she would never accidentally fall into over-giving and in the process of loving the little boy, forget how much she loved herself.

And so, when the little boy asked for her leaves, she gladly gave him some, but she gently taught the little boy that sometimes leaves were meant for gathering and building crowns, but other times, they had a life of their own and were meant to live on so they could gently fall when it was their natural time to leave.

When the boy, now grown with a wife, asked for apples so that he could make them a pie, she gladly gave him a few. But she gently reminded him that sometimes apples were meant for picking but other times, they were meant for growing, so that there could be more to nourish everyone, including the tree herself.

When the boy later brought his young son to visit the tree and asked for wood, with a gentle, wise smile, she said, “Your beautiful son is welcome to swing on the branches, but if wood is taken, other children won’t be able to enjoy swinging on me as well."

And when she grew tired, she would remind the little boy softly with kindness, that sometimes branches were meant for swinging on, but other times, they were meant for resting in, as they too needed to rest. And the boy would then stop swinging and wish the branches “Goodnight.”

And the boy returned with his son, now a teenager, who told the tree when his father was not within earshot, “I need to get away from my parents. They are driving me crazy. You have been standing tall for a long time now. Would you consider letting me take your trunk to build a boat so I can travel far away?”

And the tree smiled and said gently, “I understand your frustration. But you cannot. For there are other teenagers who come to me and sit down here beneath me and rest when they too need to get away from their parents. And so, if you were to do that, I would not be a sanctuary for them. But I am here for you to rest beneath whenever you need, while I too, am resting.”

And so, each day, the boy, now a young man, returned to the tree, until one day, the boy grew old and grey, and visited the tree with his grandchildren.

And he said, “Thank you for teaching me and my children and my children’s children, not to take, but to receive — That giving from a place of love is also receiving, and the difference between taking and receiving.

That love never seeks to possess, but to appreciate. And most important of all, that receiving is as much a form of love as giving.

I cannot ever believe that I, and my descendants once imagined robbing you of your leaves, apples, branches and trunk, until you had nothing left and were just an old stump.

You have given me a great gift: The gift of receiving.”

And the tree lived on for many centuries, and was a quiet place to sit and rest beneath, and was loved by many children who sat down and rested in its shade. And the tree was happy.

(Adapted from: “The Giving Tree” By Shel Silverstein)

Words by Tahlia Hunter

Once, there was a girl who wanted a doll more than anything in the world and a mother who told her she could not have it, because she could not afford it.

And so, she lived her life believing she was unworthy of receiving beautiful things, rejecting all of the dolls that life tried to give her.

“I cannot afford to have a beautiful doll,” she sighed. “There is no doll that is meant for me.”

When there were beautiful dresses in the store, she would not let herself buy them. And when there were delicate teacups and saucers, she would not let herself use them.

All the gifts she was given, she gave away.

“They must be meant for someone else. They must not be meant for me.” she thought to herself.

Until one day, she grew to become a mother, and she found herself standing in a toy store with her little daughter, asking the very same question she had once asked.

And just before she answered, instead of saying, “We cannot afford it,” she whispered with a soft smile, “We will put it on your Christmas list and see if it can come.”

And at Christmas, her daughter unwrapped a gift from her grandmother, and to her joy and amazement, found not only a beautiful doll but an entire dollhouse.

Tucked inside was a note for her mother.

It read:

“Once upon a time, I was in a store with you many years ago.

It broke my heart to not be able to buy you the doll that you so desperately wanted, as I was not able to afford it. But it brings me so much joy that I can now buy it for your daughter.

Please never mistake someone’s inability to give you something as meaning you are not worthy of receiving goodness in your life.

I hope you will be open to receiving all of the beautiful gifts that life has to give you.

And if life ever hands you a doll, you will know that it is meant for you and you will never find yourself believing that you are unworthy of it.

And may you always remember the words of Frances Hodgson Burnett:

'I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics. Even if they dress in rags, even if they aren’t pretty, or smart, or young. They’re still princesses.'

And may you always know that you deserve to be treated as such."

Words by Tahlia Hunter

Once there was a caterpillar who was very, very hungry.

He lived his entire life looking for what he could eat to complete him, what could finally make him feel full.

At first, he ate a cake. But after eating the entire cake, he continued to feel hungry.

And so he decided, his hunger must not arise from what he was physically eating, but from what he was lacking in every other area of his life.

Then, he decided to search for the feeling of fullness through buying a house. But alone in the house, he still felt empty.

Then he met a beautiful caterpillar. “Maybe if I have this caterpillar in my life, then finally, my life will be complete.” he thought to himself. “And if all of the other caterpillars look at this beautiful caterpillar next to me, they will think I am a special caterpillar: that I have truly made it in life.”

But even with her presence in his life, as beautiful and lovely as she was, both outside and inside, he felt just as empty as before.

Then he decided to learn as much as he could, to fill his mind with knowledge. “Then I will feel complete.” He decided. But even though he knew more than all of the other caterpillars combined, still he felt empty.

And after his time of many studies, he was starting to grow old.

The caterpillar sighed sadly to himself, “No matter how much I consume, I’m still hungry.”

Then one day, he met a beautiful butterfly, soaring freely and effortlessly.

The butterfly whispered kindly, “You are searching horizontally for what can only be found vertically. It is not the cake, it is the experience you bring to eating the cake. It is not the partner, it is the love you bring to the connection. And it is not life itself, or a story that you tell about yourself that will complete you. Nothing you search for will bring you lasting fulfilment, as it is not anything outside of you that makes you complete but simply who you are being in this moment.”

The caterpillar stared at the butterfly in surprise.

“You mean all this time, I have been looking for something outside of myself to complete me, when I was complete the whole time?” he asked. He shook his head in astonishment. He did not know whether or not to believe the butterfly. Her words sounded too good to be true. But up until now, all else had failed.

And so one day, he decided he would practice simply learning to be. He sat in silence with himself in a cocoon. At first it was so painful, as he had been so used to searching in the outside world for fulfilment. To no longer search for it outside of himself but to simply be, seemed completely strange and foreign to him.

But little by little, he started to become more present to his surroundings, until one day he woke up, and found he had become a butterfly.

And he discovered what had always been there and existed for him, that he had never truly recognised before: his fullness and completion on the level of who he was being.

And over time, he started to feel less and less hungry.

Yes, he still desired eating cake. but longing for cake to make him feel full had vanished. Yes, he still loved learning, but he now no longer mistook what he knew for how complete he was, as it could not add to him in any way, only to an image he had about himself in his mind about him being an intelligent caterpillar that was far more knowledgeable than all of the other caterpillars.

And yes, he still loved the butterfly who was previously a caterpillar but had transformed along with him, but he no longer looked to her to make him more of himself. Fulfilment was found in what he brought to the experience, no longer from the experience itself, as he was no longer searching in the world for what he already was.

Inspired by and adapted from “The Very Hungry Caterpillar" by Eric Carle (a lovely, well-known children’s book)

Words by Tahlia Hunter

Once there was a girl, who looked to a mirror to tell her that she was beautiful.

“Am I beautiful?” she asked the mirror.

And instead of reflecting back her beauty, the mirror listed back a long list of flaws that she possessed.

“You are too fat, too short, too plain, and too shy,” the mirror replied. The girl sighed sadly.

But to be sure, she went in search of another mirror.

“Am I beautiful?” she asked the second mirror.

“I do not see beauty. I see only ugliness.” The mirror replied.

And when she asked this of the third mirror, it did not even appear to acknowledge her or notice her at all.

And so, she set out to travel the world, in search of a mirror that would tell her that she was beautiful.

But with every mirror that she met, she was met with the same reply. “I cannot see your beauty.” And she grew more and more disheartened.

“All of these mirrors must be right. I must not be beautiful. I must not be worthy of love,” she whispered to herself, before starting to weep.

And as she sat crying, she noticed out of the corner of her eye, an old woman starting to slowly approach her.

“My dear,” she smiled. “Each of these mirrors are not perfect mirrors. They are people. And what they see in you is a reflection of what they see in themselves.

And so, each person who has not fully healed and seen themselves in their fullness is a broken mirror.”

She continued, “When you are first born, you cannot know yourself. And so you go in search of a mirror.

And the first mirror that mirrors yourself back to you becomes the mirror in which you see yourself.

The first mirror you saw yourself in was not fully capable of reflecting your beauty back to you, though it may have wished to, because the mirrors that it encountered were not fully capable of reflecting its beauty back to it.

And so what you see in yourself is a girl who cannot see that she is beautiful.

And what you now see in each mirror you ever encounter are mirrors who also cannot see that you are beautiful. Can you see?” she asked.

She paused and smiled, before continuing. “Do not search for yourself in a broken mirror, or mistake a broken mirror for meaning that you are broken.

And the next time that someone calls you too fat or too thin, too pale or too dark, too wrinkled or too smooth, too freckled or too tanned, too this or too that, remember that there are no ugly people, only people incapable of seeing beauty.”

The girl’s eyes widened slightly. Yet, she still felt discouraged.

“How can I see that I am beautiful? If no mirror has ever fully reflected it back to me?” she asked in reply.

The old lady smiled. “What do you see when you look into the eyes of a tree?” she asked.

“Beauty.” she replied.

“What do you see when you notice the patterns of a seashell?”

“Perfection.” she answered.

“And what do you see when you witness the colours of a sunset?” “Magic,” she said.

The old lady paused before finishing, “How can you see that you are beautiful? By changing the mirror that you look in from a mirror of the body to a mirror of the soul.”

And with her words, the spell was broken, and the mirrors that surrounded her, were magically transformed back into people.

And she no longer looked to them to tell her that she was beautiful, for they were no longer mirrors.

And though the old woman was gone, she remained with her in spirit.

And if she ever found herself unable to see her beauty, she remembered the wise words the old woman had left with her before she had departed:

"On the days when you struggle to look at yourself in the mirror, for you feel dissatisfied by what you see, remember that feeling that something is less beautiful does not make it so. That you were born beautiful, and will die beautiful, for beauty is no two-dimensional thing, that can ever be captured by an image, as it encompasses the soul.

And a single flaw that you believe that you possess based on what you have been taught to believe is beautiful cannot come close to reflecting the entire essence of who you are.

And so, if you ever find yourself fixating on your appearance and wishing to change what cannot be changed, I would suggest, my dear, that you shift your focus from the beauty without to the beauty within, that shines outward but originates inside, that remains with you as you age, and cannot ever be taken from you when you die. And change the mirror of the body to a mirror of the soul."

“There is no such thing as an ugly duckling—only those without the eyes to see your beauty.”

Words by Tahlia Hunter

Once upon a time, there was a wishing chair. “How does it work?” The young boy asked his grandfather.

The old man smiled, “You sit in the chair and you wish for whatever you want to wish for.” The boy’s eyes widened. “Then does your wish come true?” he asked. His eyes twinkling, he replied: “You can give it a try for yourself and see.”

The boy sat in the chair excitedly. “I wish I could travel to Disneyland,” he said. He closed his eyes and waited. “I’m not there yet,” he said.

“Picture what it is like to be there right now.” He smiled. “It’s so much fun to imagine. There’s all of the rides and the popcorn, and the characters to meet. I can picture it all now, and feel what it’s like to be there, even though I’m not there.”

He smiled. “Exactly. You do not need to travel to Disneyland to experience the joy of being in Disneyland. That same joy you can experience right now. That's the fun part of having a wish. The joy comes from the wishing, not from your wish coming true. ”

(P.S. I probably don’t recommend trying this with your grandkids. I recommend buying them real tickets to Disneyland instead :) ).

Words by Tahlia Hunter

“How did you learn to overcome the fear of others judging you and not seeing your worth?” the small boy asked the old man.

“Once I was at a gallery in Milan and some schoolboys walked past a painting and one said, “Look at that garbage! My five-year-old cousin could paint something better than that.”

He paused. “Last year it sold for 15 million dollars. Hundreds of buyers missed out.

And so on the days I cannot see my own worth or value as it has not been reflected back to me through others, I think: Perhaps they are the wrong audience to appreciate me. And I remember each of us is abstract art: Rubbish to the wrong people but priceless to the ones who are truly capable of appreciating us and seeing us as precious: as precious as we truly are.

You will say, “Look at that ordinary woman, there’s nothing special or unique about her,” and others will say “That’s The Mona Lisa!” This is how life works. You will be someone’s Mona Lisa.

Every person is equally special but expresses that specialness differently. It is that expression we are drawn to.

Your specialness recognises their specialness. Like recognises like.

He continued, “This helps me to be more compassionate when it comes to seeing people: I practice seeing people as abstract art to be appreciated rather than judged.

And I remember the secret value that each of us possesses that transcends being labelled as special by some and not special by those who cannot see us as art.”

Words by Tahlia Hunter

“What was your secret to winning a gold medal at the Olympics?” the small boy asked.

The old man smiled. “When I was a little boy, I dreamed of winning a gold medal. Of holding that gold medal in my hands and being known as an Olympian, having my parents, my family, my country be proud of me and see me as a hero.

I wanted it more than anything in the world. And so every morning at 4:30 am, I got up and my parents drove me to swimming practice. And I swam and swam, enduring many hours of rigorous training thinking I was swimming closer towards that gold medal.

And one year, I made it to the Olympics for the very first time. And I was completely overjoyed.

But every subsequent year that passed, I did not win a gold medal. I did not even win any medal at all. And as the years passed by, I grew older and more weary and further away from the dream I’d once had. Until I no longer qualified to compete in the Olympics as a swimmer.”

He paused before continuing. “I was a good swimmer. But the problem wasn’t that I wasn’t a good enough swimmer.”

“What was the problem?” the boy asked.

“The problem was that I hated swimming. And so after many years, an old friend said, ‘You should try running.’

I hadn’t tried it in many years since competing in high school, so I was a little rusty. And once I started running, I couldn’t stop running. Running brought me so much joy. So much joy even that I no longer cared about winning a gold medal or whether or not anyone was watching or applauding. Running became something I did simply for the sake of running.

I ran sprints, I ran marathons, I ran everywhere I was allowed to run. Running became the greatest passion of my life.”

“And so you won a gold medal at the Olympics for running?” the boy asked.

He smiled. “No, I was too old to compete. But by then it no longer mattered.

But my son inherited my love of running. And he has now won three gold medals.

You win the gold medal when you no longer need to win the gold medal because it is not winning, but the sport itself that brings you the greatest joy.”

He paused momentarily before continuing.

“He passed away last year, but before he did, he said this medal was mine to keep as I was a champion in his eyes for teaching him running and helping him to discover his gift.

And for teaching him each Olympics, what I wish my father once taught me: what I wish I had heard from him as a child: that while he would be proud of me for winning, he would be equally proud of me for simply competing. And that while it may be special to win, I never had to do anything to win his love. And most importantly, that joy and success are not something that the world grants you, but something that you grant to yourself.

And so each Olympics, as I am coaching the other runners, I wear this medal in honour of him.”

Words by Tahlia Hunter

“How did you learn to cope with people calling you ugly?” she asked the old man.

“Once I was driving an old, beaten-down car that had been well-loved and well-worn over time, and a teenager called out “What an ugly car,” and I felt personally diminished as in that moment, I had identified with the car. I had mistaken the car for being myself.

And then I remembered, this body is also a car. I am merely the passenger.

And so rather than focusing on how beautiful this car appears, I instead focus on how beautifully I can take care of the car. How beautifully I can drive this car, until one day the car finally cannot be driven any longer.

And I remember that the car’s true beauty is never found in how it appears but how beautifully it is taken care of.

And each time I see my car that I love, it reminds me, “Do not mistake your appearance for who you are.”

Words by Tahlia Hunter

The small boy asked the elderly lady with terminal cancer, “Though your life on the surface appears unhappy, it seems that you are happy. Do you have any wisdom to share with me?”

She paused thoughtfully for a moment, before slowly replying, “When you are young, you live your life falsely believing each future moment will be more beautiful than this moment. That each future experience will be more special than the experience you are experiencing now. Looking for fulfillment in any moment other than the moment you are living now.

But when this moment is beautiful, you no longer need any future moments of your life to be beautiful or special as your life is beautiful and special now. Not because it appears perfect on the surface, but because of who you are being in the experience. The love, care, attention and presence you are bringing to each moment.

When you can live each moment of your life beautifully, you no longer need the future to be beautiful for your life to feel complete, as you are not looking to the horizontal dimension of life for what can only be found in the vertical dimension.

As you recognise, when you look to the future for fulfillment, you are looking to a story of your life to be complete to feel complete but all stories are destined to change, they are never destined to remain the same, and so completion can never be found in any moment other than the moment you are living now.”

She paused. “In this moment, life is beautiful and special.

Though there may have been more that I wished to do, become and achieve on an outer level in the world, my life is complete because of who I am being.

I am no longer looking to time to tell me that life will one day become beautiful and special. Life is beautiful and special because who I am being is beautiful and special.

I do not mistake life’s ability to be beautiful for my ability to be beautiful, or a story that I tell about my life for my life to be complete.

And I do not look to age or the passing of time or gaining of wisdom for completion as on the level of being, a child of five, and an old lady like me of a hundred, are equally complete.”

Words by Tahlia Hunter

The old woman said, “The more you see yourself in everything you do, in every gift you share with the world, when someone rejects a gift you give, it is as if they are rejecting your very self. As if you were the gift itself being handed at Christmas to another person that they were refusing to open.

But once you remember your true self lies in the essence of what you are doing not the outcome of what you are doing, the love, kindness and generosity behind what you create, it no longer matters how the gift is received, as the gift lies in the giving.”

She paused thoughtfully, before continuing. “If I see my life through a story that I tell about myself, and the gifts I share are met with condemnation or a lack of recognition, rather than appreciation, I can tell the story That ‘I am a failure,’ or that ‘my work is worthless because no one appears to appreciate it and therefore appreciate me, as I am seeing myself in everything I do.’

She paused again. “But if I see life not as a story and remove my ‘self’ from what I am sharing, instead seeing the simple facts of what is: “A gift that is being given is not being received or recognised,”

I can instead say, “Perhaps this gift is meant for a different audience, in a different time or place, such as a future point in time, by their children or their children’s children, or what is seen as a gift by me may not be seen as a gift by them, as they lack the capacity to recognise it as a gift.”

And so, I do not mistake the popularity of something for its value. And I no longer mistake the gift for the one who gave the gift, not mistaking a gift that was expressed through me for me.

How a gift is received does not change the beauty of the gift. If the gift I gave was received in a way that is less beautiful, that does not mean that it is any less of a beautiful gift.

And I no longer search for my worth in the world, but to bring my worth to the world, through the love, presence and attention with which I give the gift (which is the only true gift I can ever claim to own or possess).

Remembering, worth is not something the world gives you. It is something you recognise inside of yourself.”

Words by Tahlia Hunter 

(These 12 fairytales are excerpted from a larger series that you can find on Facebook.)