Sometimes it's hard for her to know if something's real or not. The stick in her hand – it's meaningless, dead tissue of a living tree, of no use. But if she holds it and points it, it's taken away. It's a gun. It's given meaning and use and danger. But she only sees a stick.
Which is the right one?
Perhaps not 'right', but 'real'. But what's actually real? It's real to /her/. Why isn't that enough?
"If y'er askin' me why y'er so gorram /cracked, I ain't got an answer for you, girlie."
If he growls like a bear and glares like a bird, but everyone else says he's a man, what is he? And if he hurts and kills but jokes and laughs, is he a murderer or a friend? Enemy or ally?
Or both?
"Jayne is a girl's name," she says and tries to convey the whole meaning. If the name is a girl but the body is a man's, is he male or female? Is the body really male or is it just what she sees? Is the name real or is it just what she hears?
"Yeah, well, Jayne ain't no girl," the bear growls, the bird glares. He goes back to eating, slurping soup from a wooden spoon. How can wood also be a spoon? Is he really eating? Is the soup there, or is it just what she sees, like his lips puckered to slurp?
Kiss-kiss. Like a fish. That's what he is – scaled and ready for supper. Growling and glaring, they all go to the frying pan.
