We all tell stories all the time

A friend's daughter and I were walking through the marketplace in her town the other day. It was early winter dusk. The Christmas Market stands were standing empty around the periphery in anticipation of next week's opening. My young companion told me how she and her family often come to the Christmas Market in the evenings after dinner. Then she told a story in short sentences with great depth,

“The adults stand crowded together while the children run around. There is music and a bubble-making fountain. The children chase after the bubbles. Oh, I love the feel and taste of the hot Christmas Punch* in my mouth and the coldness on my cheeks.”

Do not those words conjure up so many wonderful images?

* The children get a spiced Christmas Punch with no alcohol, but those adults crowding around talking are undoubtedly partaking in the more stronger sort.