It was her teeth. Her clothes. The basket she held. The ear rings. The neck scarf. The taint in her skin. The distance travelled. The centuries. In caravans and carts. The poverty. The pain. The prejudice. Smoked skinned ceremonies. Horses. Dogs. Bare fist fights and flights of fancy. Her hereditary Y chromosome. This girl. A scattered star. Religious icon. Provocative. Restricted. This diamond. This jewel. In front of me. Alongside two others. Selling pegs and heather. She saw me. I remembered her.