I am doing the typing but there is another woman.
She is sitting at a desk.
And old wooden desk.
She is refined.
She is an old soul.
She has been around.
She knows a thing or two.
Her gray silver hair makes her look incredibly distinguished.
She sits as though she knows she will get up again soon.
The look on her face when she is thinking makes it incredibly clear that something incredible is happening inside her head.
Perhaps there is another little woman inside her head too.
It is her voice you hear.
She is the one who remembers every word we have ever heard spoken.
She files them away to use later.
I wonder if I closed my eyes and rolled them back into my head, I could see her.
Just sitting. Legs crisscrossed like a child.
Thinking.
She never stops thinking.
I never stop thinking.
AMV