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     "I enjoy poetry very much," says Angelisa. "It feels like you are letting your soul speak, don't you think?" Françoise is a little startled and grips her journal tighter to her chest. Angelisa's words sink in, connect. She has never shared her poetry with anyone - the mere idea terrifies her - but as these words register deep inside Françoise feels her initial wariness of her guest diminishing.
      "I've seen you at the bookstore too," she says, pausing and searching for a reaction on Angelisa's face. She remains calm, invites confidence. "I feel like my poems are my only friends. It's not easy living in this town for someone like me - being black I mean."
      "I can imagine it's hard"
      "Do you write poetry too?" Françoise inquires.
      "Yes, a little. My first love is photography but I have been trying to use the images of my photos to inspire my soul to speak. It's difficult sometimes when you write down things that you never knew you had inside. My publisher asked me to write a book of poems based on my landscapes - that's why I came here - but when I sat down to write the poems what came out was nothing to do with the scenery. It came from somewhere inside."
      Françoise is intrigued. She feels Angelisa's words striking a chord within her, releasing the physical tension that her body has imposed through its protective instinct.
      "My soul speaks too," she says in a moment of bravery. "And then sometimes I simply write about my soul." Angelisa's eyes widen and she twists her body around to face Françoise, who surprised by her own admission, sits up eagerly as if about the reveal a secret.
      "Would you like to hear one?"
      Angelisa nods, and Françoise opens the journal. She flips a few pages and takes a long breath, then reads. Her listener remains motionless throughout, scanning Françoise's face as her lips form words and her eyes echo their sentiment. When the final word is released Françoise lifts her head to her audience and waits for a reaction. Their eyes connect. Angelisa absorbs the meaning as the sounds settled in her mind and with a look of sincere gratitude, reaches and gently squeezes Françoise's hand.
      "C'est très beau - beautiful."