His skills at folding paper had allowed him to set up his own business, rent a one bed roomed flat and have a very basic lifestyle. He often wondered if he shouldn’t look at trying to make something more out of himself, but then the paper always called him back. Everyone called him an artist, but he didn’t feel like it as he just followed the instructions and made things. How can you be artist if you have no free will or expression over your pieces? He supposed that not just anyone could make famous landmarks and faces out of square bits of paper. There had to be some skill and patients involved in that, but to him it had always come naturally. His favourite pieces were the ones for weddings and parties; brightly blooming flowers, almost real like moving butterflies and the floating swans, which he gladly took orders for to make. There was nothing he didn’t enjoy crafting the paper into and nothing that seemed too difficult. Of course he did get it wrong sometimes, by a wrong fold or an off angled crease, but he knew that was all part of the process.