Two funny little legs that make her walk with bow legs as if she had been born in the saddle or was trying to keep herself steady on the prow of a boat.
Two slender arms like a baby’s that end in two little hands that are however strong and muscular, able to hold, to clutch, to touch, not like the pointless hands of a woman, almost always helpless and fussily graceful and made for caressing, those consolatory caresses that have so little courage.
A little mouth that is both joyful and scornful. A triangular face like that of an elf, eyes that are large and revealing, a flash of beautiful intelligence, restless, greedy, wide open to the world. Anxious, attentive eyes that see everything, take in everything, they stare and then shy away from or approve of what they see with an amazement that is both timid and arrogant.
When she uses her body, whether at work or just washing her face, she whistles, a good strong whistle, a decisive whistle that goes with a desire to act.
This is what makes our little Argonaut so extraordinary, someone special, someone difficult, a little disturbance that lays over the life of those she loves. (of those who love her)