She calls her my shrimpling, tiny, baby, kitten, turtledove. "Auntie," the girl replies. Auntie takes looks after the girl like she's her own daughter, when she is actually her niece. The girl tells her Auntie everything as though Auntie were her mother, when Auntie's actually her aunt. The two of them are a fiery duo, a game of ping-pong with love as the ball. That much is necessary for the child, when at home, must often fend for herself and cannot rely too much on her mother. Fortunately, to escape the occasionally none-too-glamorous routines of everyday life, there are dreams, but above all there is tenderness.