Earthy. She has characteristics of the earth. Don't imagine there is an adjective more exact than this. She is more real than real, if anything. Her skin is the same tone as soil. Moist clay; porous and breathing. Her hair is the roots of those numerous trees of thought that grow out of her head. She flourishes like redundant flora; into a woman whose presence was never desired. Like weed. Boundless creeper, spreading arms and legs; on walls and trees; for support; like on numerous men. And then moves on, outgrows, abandons this support, the men, those walls that only constrained. Like a snake sheds skin, she sheds memories, and leaves a serpentine trail of history; unwritten, and somehow never capricious enough. Sometimes she sits though, still like a mountain. Stares at the night sky, and reflects. Cries, sometimes a river emulates the tears emerging from the corner of her eye. A mighty masculine river that floods and washes away everything. Sometimes even herself. After the storm, she is the layer dust that settles on leaves. Also, she is the withered leaf that falls off, to decay and become the earth again.