In alphabetical order now, please, children.

What is the soul?
Really.
Where is it and what is it made of?
Is it developed and created, or is it something that we are born with?

Can we really say "Oh, she's such a good soul" or "that person is so cruel. they have no soul at all"?
Can we?

A small bit from my walking journal:

There's a man sitting on a bench near mine. He's stretched out and he's resting his back on a black bag. I'm pretty sure that he knows I'm writing about him. He's watching me. He's wearing glasses. He has gray and white hair.
When I walked by him earlier, I noticed that he's using a picture as a bookmark. It's a woman with long brown hair. Obviously in a studio. The background is blue.
Who is she?
What does she mean to him?
If I used a picture as a bookmark, whose would I choose?