Answer:
What holds names and memories which are not its own?
The one who makes it, sells it. The one who buys it, never uses it. The one that uses it never knows that he’s using it.
If Teresa’s daughter is my daughter’s mother, who am I to Teresa?
I can run but not walk. Wherever I go, thought follows close behind.
In Paris but not in France, the thinnest of its siblings.
I have two bodies joined together as one. When standing still I run and run.