Rasima Elkadi
You see a woman who stands five and a half feet tall.  Her skin has color to it, kissed by the sun like someone from north of the Horn of Africa.  Her straight hair runs down past her shoulders like a black waterfall, one errant strand sweeping down her right cheek to curl coyly below her mouth at the edge of her jawline.  She wears a faint smile, the edges of her mouth curling up just slightly as if on the verge of a pleasant laugh.  Her eyes, pools of darkness, gleam and shine with a joie de vie that proves infectious to most.