This magnifying glass belonged to my grandmother. She was a gentlewoman of bygone times, coming from an age when the concept of "most beautiful girl in town" still existed (and she was the one), and when people from similar backgrounds knew each other by name. She was also quite progressive, rowing a canoe, playing ping pong at a competitive level and working in a lab in the Thirties; smoking, holding the cigarette holder gracefully in her hands with bright red nails. She carried an ancient elegance inside of her at all times, a thing you could perceive even when she was just cooking in a tattered pullover. When she got old, I saw her often with this maginfying glass, reading the newspaper or a book. Even when her hearing deteriorated, even when she couldn't leave the house anymore, she wanted to stay informed about what was going on in the world. I can see her now, as she sat in our kitchen every day, near the window, framed by my mum's hundreds of potted plants, pointing the magnifying glass at words carrying intelligence from the big outside.