She is a passenger she tells me one late afternoon. She tells me about all that she sees. She tells me about birds without wings and sharks with no teeth and she tells me how everything is reduced to a blur of color as she rushes by, thousand miles an hour. She tells me about other worlds with other people. She talks about other thoughts and other skies. She describes the worlds with great detail. She asks me what I think. I think about how she has seen so much and done so little but I don't tell her because that is not what she wants to hear.