a baby is born, a girl, she is quiet and her eyes are closed, the picture skips. an angry mother smacks her child across the face and a cry pierces the air, followed by soft sniffles and pit-a-pat of tears and blood from her nose falling onto the hard concret floor. A young hand passes her a tissue, "thank you" she says to her older brother. the picture skips again. suddenly outside, on a playing field, racing after the white and black ball rolling along the wet grass. She goes for the ball, a slide kick, mud and grass fly into the air, along with the ball, into the goalies hands, "bugger" she whispers to herself, a teammate pats her on the back, "nice try jose". again and again the picture skips, showing victory and failure, happiness and hurt of this one girl. but the picture stops skipping, because we have reached the present...