Old Gibi

You see a forest begin you. Begin in You.

Next time I am nighttime. 

- You see a tree; you see about half of the leaves of the tree.

Old Gibi sat on a little wooden stool in the corner of her cubish abode, windowless but lit well enough by a small fire in the opposite corner. Soft grey smoke slid out the round chimney. The thatch roof was slanted, the taller wall against two mature maples or sycamores.

She was the GameBoy. 

Etchings and scratches on the walls told too many stories to tell, as well as her bright eyes and rough, craggly, canyonous outer skin.

The colours ranged from spoilt honey to off-turquoise, cooler or warmer depending on the time of day and dampness of air.

You could choose to ask her of 3 questions...