When I was little, my grandma broke my beloved porcelain doll into pieces while she was cleaning my room. I cried for the doll every day. My grandma was not superstitious, but one of her friends convinced her that doll had a soul. I didnt know what exactly was said, my grandma decided to bury the broken pieces under the Cannas. then, whenever I started crying, she took me to pray in front of these beautiful Canna fowers (all in bloody red) asking the doll not to come back but leave me in peace... soon, she fell ill & passed away a couple of months before I reached my 4th birthday. My brother never had a chance to meet my kind grandma. whenever I see Cannas, I think of her. I could never forget how we paryed in front of these flowers... oh, tears.. the rest of my childhood went on without a single doll, as I didnt want any.