[xi-] Xena is in [1] front of the [-an] pawn shop where she just bought a bolt of second-hand 纟 silk. She sits on the sidewalk next to the patchy pawn shop lawn separating the 纟 silk into a 千 thousand 纤 fine fibers. Why? She wants to make a 纤 fine piece of warrior equipment, probably. She sits their ripping one 纤 fine thread after another from the 纟 silk, one at a time, until she has one 千 thousand of them.