I’ve begun my voyage in a paper boat without a bottom; I will fly to the moon in it. I’ve been folded along a crease in time, a weakness in the sheet of life. Now you’ve settled on the opposite side of the paper to me. I can see your traces in the ink that soaks through the fibre, the pulped vegetation. When we become waterlogged and the cage disintegrates, we will intermingle. And when this paper aero plane leaves the cliff edge and carves parallel vapour trails in the dark, we will come together.