Draelen

She looks up at the wall, after a long moment of brooding over numerous black-ink scribbles and half a mug of hot chocolate she starts: "Words." I lift my head and gaze at her. She's looking me in the eye now; her eyes are hazel and detached, hanging under a rough fringe. She continued. "Words are funny wee things. Sometimes you say them, without really thinking… and these words go into people, and these people understand these words. Well… interpret. Which isn't always what you meant to say. These words that you produced without thinking… all have meanings. A certain word can change the whole meaning, connotations, metaphors