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 increasing time, The weakness in the sheet of live. Now you have settled on the opposite side of the paper to me. I can see your traces in the ink, that soaks through the fiber, the popped agitation. When we become waterlogged and the cage disintegrates we will intermingle. When this paper airplane leaves the cliff edge, and carves parallel vapor trails in the dark we will come together.