She was dumbfounded by what was being asked of her. It had been years since she knelt on the hard wooden pews of the Giraffe’s church, years since she had been asked to absorb, to translate, to understand the abstract. She had always been concerned with the tangible, the practical, the mundane; she had no use for God or metaphysics. She was a scholar of the corporeal, not of philosophy or, heaven forbid, POETRY.