Yesterday I saw an old woman sitting by a pond. She was alone, looking at the water in deep thought. I thought to myself, “Once she was me.” Once she loved someone; once she was happy about something I once was happy of and once she was saddened about something that once saddened me. I wondered, what she was pondering. Was she thinking about the concluding chapters in her life, or the decisions she made in her life. Was she thinking about Ben, whom she met at fifteen, or Thomas who would later marry her at twenty-five? If she were to give me advice, what would it be? Would she have said, “Follow you dreams”, or perhaps “Live life to its fullest”? She barely made any gestures as she was pondering that which my being craved to perceive. Without turning to me, she said, “Maybe a greater thing will happen, maybe you’ll pull through.” This is a story of a woman I met on a certain day, at a certain spot. All I know is that whatever she was pondering was rich and not mediocre. Whatever lost her, whatever made her gaze at the gently moving water was of worth. By merely looking at her looking away, I too became lost, lost to realms that exist above our own in distant lands. I saw the beauty of age, for the first time, through this woman. I will always remember her and may she always remember me. I will name her, The White Haired Princess of Distant Lands, lands that exist within the soul and beyond the visible stars.