The woman, really little more than a girl, takes a seat at the head of the room. She holds up drawings and paintings, and explains how she made them, why she likes the result and what she plans to do more of. The enthusiasm is there but it is muted.
It isn't until she pulls a tattered paperback tome from her bag and begins to read aloud with the passion of long-seated love and fascination with words and characters that the joy is revealed.
When she has finished reading she smiles, and perhaps she secretly hopes that one day someone will read her words with as much affection as she reads theirs.