Time to spring the cleaning on the homefront..terrify the nooks and crannies into spik and spans.

Rendered in sleep, telling dreams splash the colour of life at my feet...

Shared fiber hearts zing the bandwidth...optical illusion...true love...

She presses the paper into a sharp crease. The edges crump and fray and fall into place, fitting into the new fold. Adjusts to the air and the shape of her hand and the glint of her eye. Another fold...a slight twist...a vision of where to make the next pliant groove. The fiber shakes. Changing molecules roll and weight and tease. How it will fly. Where will it go. Glide me to the moon she says as she tenderly wraps the last of it. Pushing herself into the forward and tossing it up she flies.

Kindred spirits....Netkin...waveriders, you and I...to have met through and slipped into the beyond..