Jouska #atozchallenge

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Jouska; a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

She was there again in her front garden, sunbathing and relaxing. I’d missed seeing her during winter. Now though, she’d be out there every sunny day and I could watch from the shadow corner of my living room. I know what people would think of me if they knew I was watching her; a spy, a peeping tom, a stalker, a rapist.

I’m not any of them. I’m just a lonely artist who sees the beauty of all female forms. Sometimes I’ll sit here and sketch her, other times I’ll draw her from memory. Most of the time I just like to watch and hold a conversation with her in my head.

‘Hello,’ I would say, ‘nice weather today.’

‘Yes,’ she would reply, maybe lowering her sunglasses.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt you. But I live across the way there and I’ve been admiring you for so long.’ 

She might sigh and try to break the news she has a boyfriend or a husband to me. Not that I’ve noticed one about the place. Or perhaps, she might look closely at me and try to tell me I’m not her type. 

In some of these conversations, she does declare her interested in me, but those are very rare and only when I’m feeling at my most lowest. Most of the time she’ll state a boyfriend.

My reply is always, ‘that’s fine. I’m an artist and I would like to paint you.’ 

‘Well, I don’t know,’ she’d respond and start to blush.

‘Please? You can have the painting. It’s the only thing I wish for.’ 

‘I’d need to think about it,’ she would say whilst getting up.

‘No. Don’t think about it. You wouldn’t have to do anything. Just lay there as you have been doing and I shall get to work at once. Here, I have my paper and pencils all ready. Please, this would mean so much to me.’ 

She’ll lower herself back down, ‘okay….’

‘It’ll be fine,’ I’ll say.

Then I begin to sketch her. Outlining all her loveliness whilst she sunbaths. 

After, I will transfer the sketches to canvas and paint her. It’ll be my master piece. The one painting everyone remembers me by.

If only that conversation could become real…

Wall

art, brush, painting

He liked to draw, but only on walls. Early in the morning, before the city fully awoke, he set out with his tools. He walked the almost empty streets where yesterday’s newspaper rustled around lampposts and the air hummed with rotting fast food. Lights on top floors shone out, growing dim as the sun rose higher.

He found his ‘canvas’ on the inside wall of a pedestrian tunnel under a road. Setting his things down, he looked for the best spot to began as he ponder what he would paint today.

For Art

Scrapyard, Recycling, Dump, Garbage, Metal, Scrap Yard

Matt liked going to the scrap yard because he never knew what he was going to find. Parking his car in the carefully reserved spaces just outside the tall electrical wired topped gates, he got out and went in. A small box booth painted bright red to stand out against everything else sat just inside the fence, with a huge man balled up inside. Matt waved to him and clocked the scrap yard owner’s wave back before wandering in.

Towers of scrap and waste rose up around Matt like small mountains. Someone was trying hard to keep control of the towers being structured out of the same items, but it was an almost impossible task. The metal piles held abandoned cars, some looking crushed others just looking dumped where sticking out alongside white kitchen appliances which also mingled with other metal objects.

The smell was bad and Matt slipped on his cloth mask and gloves as he walked. The air was heavy with old oil, rusting metal, household waste and other rotting things. Following large paths that had been marked out of the cranes and other monster machines to follow, he approached a few of the piles and looked at the stuff on offer.

His mind rushed over all the things he could create and soon he had gathered a list of items. Finding a worker, which took a very long time, he got the young man to gather what he had picked it out and cart it back to the booth for the total and payment. He then got help arranging deliver and sent of home again.

Matt knew he always took too much home. Thinking about as he drove, he felt he couldn’t help it. Somehow, people’s unwanted items took on new forms under his hands and found so much joy in it. What had once been his hobby was now his way of life. A way of life selling recycled art.

Little Black Book (Part 6)

Book, Open, Pages, Literature, Textbook, School

The train shuddered into Liverpool central station. Kimmy frowned out at the weather before they moved inside.  It was raining heavily with the sky dark and thunderous. She felt Alex easing himself up and turned to watch him stretching his legs. He then had to side step out of the way as a disgruntled older man shot him a look and tried to get passed.

‘Some people,’ Alex muttered under his breath as he sat down again.

Around them, the other travellers were collecting their things and queuing to get off the train. Voices and the clatter of objects vibrated down the carriage. Kimmy watched a group of six girls, partly dressed for a night out, began squeezing by other passengers. Their laughing and loud voices carried above the other noises.

‘Do you want that coffee? Maybe something to eat?’ Alex asked, drawing her attention back.

‘What time is it?’ Kimmy muttered and began searching for her phone.

Alex bet her to it and pulled out his, ‘it’s coming up to one.’

‘I’m meeting a friend, actually,’ she suddenly recalled.

‘Oh, okay…’ he trailed off, his face falling.

‘How long are you staying in Liverpool for?’ Kimmy cut in.

‘Till Sunday night. I’m working on some drawings for a family member.’

‘I’m here till about then too. Maybe we could meet? Shall we swap numbers?’

‘Sure.’

‘I think I left my phone in my bag,’ Kimmy pointed out.

Smiling, Alex slide out of the seat and grabbed her rucksack. Whilst she searched through it, he picked up his own bag and put it on. Finding her phone, they swapped numbers and got off the train together. Avoiding the tail end group of passengers, they walked off the platform into the station.

The rain rattled on the metal roof above them and the air was filled with train fumes, warm food, coffee and a tang of cigarette smoke wafting in as the glass doors opened. Kimmy clocked a coffee shop and was half tempted to change her mind about waiting. She heard her name being called and whipped her head back.

Two girls, standing at an advertising board were waving at her. They both had black hair, nose and ear piercings, heavy dark makeup and were wearing similar matching black clothes. To the fleeting eye they looked like twins, but up close they were completely different and easy to tell apart.

‘I have to go,’ Kimmy pointed out.

Alex nodded.

‘I’ll text you or you can text me. I’d really like that coffee and to see you again,’ she babbled.

‘Me too,’ he replied softly.

Kimmy smiled then trying not to look back at him, hurried over to her friends.

 

***

The weekend didn’t fly by as Kimmy had hoped it would. The idea of seeing Alex again hung around her neck like The One Ring. That Friday night, she had settled down on her friend’s lumpy student sofa and watched her mobile phone screen glowing in the dark. His number and name were on the screen and the empty white box below was waiting for her words.

She hadn’t been able to type or more to the point, she didn’t know what to say. Sighing, she had put the phone down and looked up at the dark ceiling. The thoughts and questions kept her up all night. Franticly, she wanted to see him again, but what if he didn’t want to? What if it had all been a spur of the moment thing? Perhaps, they’d never see each other again. Anything could happen in the space of a few days, hours or minutes.

In the morning, she felt and looked sick. Having gotten up early, put on makeup, eaten and plastered a smile on her face, her friends didn’t notice when they joined her. The day though, dragged on and she felt more on autopilot then at the wheel. Liverpool was crowned with payday shoppers fighting over the last of the reduced Christmas stock and making faces at the up and coming Valentine’s Day cards and gifts that had been slipped onto the shelves.

Kimmy lost herself in a bookshop whilst her friends where in a clothes shop next door. Her fingers scanned along the book spines before randomly pulling one out. Her thoughts were far from the words and images in front of her though. She was glad for lunch and coffee followed by a break in a small park at the back of the town hall.

After they, visited one of Kimmy’s favourite places; Quiggins. An old cinema and orchestra hall turned into a small shopping outlet for indie and alternative fashion. Looking through all the amazing gothic style dresses at the back of one of the shops, Kimmy decided she just couldn’t take it anymore and took out her phone.

She texted Alex and asked how he was.

What if he doesn’t reply? What if it’s a wrong number? What if…? She shook her fears away and put the phone back in her jean’s pocket. As her friends drift over to a Steampunk display, Kimmy heard the ping of a text message. She scrambled for her phone, causing the woman owner of the shop to look up in concern. Kimmy’s eyes darted across the screen and she took in his reply.

Am fine. At work. Can I call you tomorrow morning?

Smiling like the happiest person on Earth, she texted back yes and felt her chest swelling. When she caught up with her friends and they questioned her, she refused to tell and brushed everything off. The rest of the afternoon raced by and they ended with a night out circling the bars and clubs, drinking and dancing till they had to go home.

 

***

Kimmy felt like her head had been crushed. Rolling over and pressing her face into a pillow, she half suffocated before having to turn back again. The living room danced before her as if it had taken on the motion of a ship at sea. Her stomach rolled with it and she felt sick.

Struggling up, she bolted for the bathroom, but tripped on the stairs and had to scramble up on all fours. Bursting through the door, she threw up and couldn’t seem to stop till bile had burnt her throat raw.

She washed her mouth, brushed her teeth, showered and dressed, somehow. Getting a cup of tea and glass of water, she sat on the living room floor and pawed through her handbag. She found her phone at the bottom.

Alex had tried ringing her twice and had sent three text messages.

Moaning softly, she text back, feeling guilty, but stating they could still meet.

If he hasn’t changed his mind! The voice in her head cried.

Curling up on the sofa again, she slept off most of her hangover before her friends woke her up to go out to eat. After, she wasn’t in the mood to stay any longer, so she packed up and left. She wandered around Liverpool by herself, enjoying the cold air and old buildings.

Finally it was time.

Alex had suggested they met at a chain coffee shop in the centre. As Kimmy walked over to it, he was all ready there. His head was down and he was checking his phone. A group of people stepped in front of him, but as they went passed, he looked directly up at her.

Kimmy waved and came to his side.

‘Hi,’ he said softly.

‘Hey. I’m so sorry about this morning. I don’t normally get so drunk!’ Kimmy declared.

‘It’s fine. You had a good time?’

She nodded, ‘I did. How did the art, drawing thingy go?

Alex shrugged, ‘okay. Going to need longer though…do you want to hear about it?’

‘I don’t mind. I really need a coffee though. This hangover is still lingering.’

Laughing, Alex swung open the door for her and she stepped inside with him close behind.

Little Black Book (Part 5)

Book, Open, Pages, Literature, Textbook, School

 

Kimmy closed the notebook and tried to tuck it away. Suddenly she felt over protective of it. Fixing a hard look on her face, she shook her head slightly and felt baby loose strands of hair brushing against her forehead.

‘Maybe, I made a mistake…’ he said and rubbed his hands on his knees.

They both looked away. Him around the carriage and her the window. Kimmy manged to slip the notebook into her pocket. She steadied her breathing and played with her hair. In the reflection from the window, she watched him turn and look at her. Swallowing, she nervously twisted around. The noise of the train rumbling into a tunnel echoed loudly in their ears mixing with the similar music still coming out of their headphones. The inside lights flickered for a few seconds, before casting everything in an ugly orange shade.

‘Why did you say that?’ she asked.

‘Because I lost a notebook full of drawings like that,’ he stated.

‘Weeks ago?’ she whispered, dropping her head and peering shyly back at him.

He nodded, ‘it must have slipped out of my bag. I didn’t know till hours later. I thought…I’d never get it back…’ he shrugged, ‘I won’t…’

Kimmy touched the notebook through her pocket before pulling it out again. She handed it to him. He paused then took it from her. She watched him flip through the pages and listened to the paper zinging together. He came to a stop, glanced at her then looked down again.

‘I picked it up and I did mean to hand it in, but when I got off the train there was a storm and I guess I just forgot. I’m sorry,’ Kimmy gushed, ‘then I wasn’t going to look at it, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t important and try to find out who it belonged too. It’s yours isn’t it?’

‘Yes, he breathed.

Kimmy nodded and unable to take it anymore, she fixed her face to the window.

The darkness came to an end as the train blasted out of the tunnel. Rain hit the window, trailing clear beads down the glass. A mix of green and brown colours went passed like a smeared painting. The scene blurred before her and she felt tears prickling her eyes. Confused at her mixed emotions, she wiped her eyes and went to pull up her headphones.

There was a brush of warm air and fingers on her back as she moved. Kimmy glanced over her shoulder.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked softly.

‘It’s Kimmy. What’s yours?’

‘Alex. It’s nice to meet you.’

‘You too,’ Kimmy answered and let her hands fall into her lap.

Alex opened the notebook, having held a page with his fingers. He showed it to her and Kimmy saw the sketch of herself concentrating. She pulled a face which was quickly replaced with a small smile.

‘I hope you don’t mind…I couldn’t help but notice you a few times,’ he spoke.

‘It’s amazing. As are your other drawings,’ Kimmy answered.

‘Thanks. And thanks for giving this back to me. It means a lot.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘Here, you should have this…’

Kimmy grabbed Alex’s hand as he went to rip the page out.

‘How about you do a proper portrait of me instead?’

He stopped and Kimmy cursed herself.

Did I just say that? What? Why? She thought, there’s no way he’d want to even…and now he’s looking at me like I’m crazy. Great. Way to go!

‘Seriously?’ Alex asked.

‘Only if you want too…I mean….I don’t know if I can pay you and everything…’

He nodded then thoughtfully said, ‘why don’t we start with a coffee first?’

‘Yes. I’d like that,’ Kimmy replied, the growing smile lighting up her face.  

 

To Be Continued…   

Little Black Book (Part 4)

Book, Open, Pages, Literature, Textbook, School

Kimmy’s breath caught in her throat. It’s not really me, she thought. Lifting the notebook up, she inspected the drawing, her heart pounding loudly. However, there was no deigning her single plaited hair, large headphones and button nose. There was also that look of concentration on her face which she really hated because it made her look like she was pulling a funny face.

Biting her lip, she turned the page back as her IPod decided to play a Bullet For My Valentine song. There she was again! This time though her expression was distant and thoughtful as she was looking far too the right. The page slipped from her sweating fingers and her eyes unfocused for a few seconds. Lowering the notebook, she took a deep breath and turned to the window. The train was pulling into a station.

There was a movement of people and faint voices. She kept her head turned, ignoring everyone. A blast of cold air tickled her then rolled around her legs before the doors shut once more. The train shuttled off, the PA pinging on to announce the destination and stations on the way. The window view changed to outer edge city, with rows of houses, towers of apartments and storage buildings framed by a darkening sky.

Kimmy felt a tap on her shoulder.

She turned. There was a good looking man about her age standing there. He had longish black hair falling over his clean shaven face, brown eyes and a slightly desperate expression. A large pair of padded headphones was wrapped around his neck. He was wearing a long black leather jacket, heavy metal band t-shirt, black jeans with looping, dangling chains and large multi bucked boots.

Kimmy slipped one headphone off her ear.

‘I’m sorry, but there’s nowhere else to sit,’ he said.

She glanced at her backpack on the chair next to her then back to him.

‘I’ll put in the luggage rack for you,’ he added.

Nodding, Kimmy put the notebook between her legs and passed over the bag. He took it off her and slotted on the bottom shelf. He put his own next to it then sat down as she shuffled over.

‘Thanks.’

‘It’s fine,’ Kimmy muttered to her knees.

She slipped back her headphone, kept her eyes down for a few moments then picked up the notebook again. Turning away as much as she comfortably could, she opened the pages randomly. A raven glared up at her with a single beady eye. The feathers were wonderfully drawn and coloured in deep black. A string of red hung from a sharp looking beck and there was an eyeball at the raven’s clawed feet.

Over the page, another raven with its beck open in a scream sat on a skull who’s empty eye sockets stared haunting up at her.

Kimmy felt the man shifting. The back of her neck prickled as it seemed he was watching her. She glanced. He was. She stole a few more peeks and saw the look of puzzlement on his face. He also appeared to be leaning further over as if trying to see the notebook better. Kimmy thought about closing it or turning more away, but it was the growing look of recognition on his face that kept her frozen.

Finally, she slipped her headphones off and turned to him. Shock spread across his face then vanished as he turned away. He took off his own headphones then turned back to her. Kimmy closed the notebook.

‘I’m sorry. It’s just that…I think that’s mine…’ he trailed off.

 

To Be Continued…

Little Black Book (Part 3)

Book, Open, Pages, Literature, Textbook, School

Kimmy was packing her rucksack for a return weekend to Liverpool when her mind made a chain of connections whilst she was folding clothes. Stuffing a jumper into her bag, she went to the bedside drawer and found the black notebook where it had laid forgotten for two weeks. She stroked the fake worn leather and recalled how she had shoved the notebook away as her mum had launched into ranting mode.

Opening the pages, she looked at the drawings she remembered from last time. Reaching a new page, she stopped and looked at a half finished sketch of a woman’s head with amazing plaited hair. The pencil marks were so fine that induvial strands of shaded black hair could be made out. Marvelling, Kimmy turned to the next page and saw the attempts at drawing a long, medieval style dress.

A voice called her name and she looked up at her open bedroom door. Sunny was standing there, wrapping the brown ends of her tied back hair around her fingers. She was wearing a blue low cut top, a pair of old jeans and slippers. Kimmy clocked the slight puzzlement on her face as Sunny waited for a response.

‘Yeah?’

‘When are you leaving?’ Sunny asked.

Kimmy glanced at her watch and saw it was getting later then she had thought, ‘in the next few minutes. Why?’

‘I couldn’t remember,’ Sunny answered, ‘Logan just asked if I’d meet him in the pub in an hour or so.’

‘Oh, well, I just need to pack and then I’m gone,’ Kimmy explained, closing the notebook and slotted it into her rucksack.

Sunny nodded and slipped away, pulling the door to.

Hurriedly putting everything else in, Kimmy changed her clothes, putting on a pair of dark blue jeans, a long black laced up sleeves top and black boots. She called out a goodbye as she threw on her duffle coat and dimly heard Sunny’s bye. Leaving the apartment, she quickly walked to the train station and to the ticket machines. Joining the back of a queue of four people, she looked at the timetable board and sort her train. It was due in ten minutes.

Tickets got, she battled through the steady flow of people and onto the platform with a good few minutes to go. Standing in a huddled group of fellow travels, her thoughts wandered back to the notebook. She hadn’t meant to put it in her bag, but she hadn’t wanted Sunny to ask about it either. Deciding that it would give her something else to do on the train, her mind turned and she daydreamed about the person it belonged too.

Kimmy pictured a goth like herself, but with a nerdy side. Or maybe the person was all nerd? Perhaps, they just had an interest in medieval times and the drawings where not fantasy ones at all. Was the person a real artist or someone who did it as a hobby? Where they missing the notebook right now and cursing themselves for losing it?

The train pulled into the station, bring her back from a downward spiral of unanswerable questions. Kimmy watched the doors open and an influx of people trying to get off and onto the platform. She was pushed back and the teenage boy in front of her stepped on her boot tops. Shuffling out of the way and chasing down a half thought to kick the teenager in his ankle, Kimmy waited like a trapped sheep stuck with all the others.

Finally, she was able to step onto the train and find a seat. Heading towards the back of the carriage, she sat opposite a luggage rack with her bag on the seat next to her. Ignoring everyone else still looking, she got her headphones, IPod and the notebook out. The voices around her faded into loud screaming music and she got comfy.

Opening the book, she flipped the pages trying to not to look till she reached the last one. None of the drawings had been dated, but there must be clues to the owner and their travels, maybe? She reached a blank page towards the end of the notebook and had to flip back again. The last sketch appeared and she took in what shockingly seemed to a drawing of herself.

 

To Be Continued…

Little Black Book (Part 2)

Book, Open, Pages, Literature, Textbook, School

By the time the train pulled into Manchester Piccadilly, The rain had turned heavier and become a mixture of hailstone and sleet. Kimmy gathered her rucksack as the PA pinged the arrival and the train came to a stop. She let the stamped of people pass her before getting up and stepping onto the platform.

Cold air wrapped around her, sending chills through her coat and prickling her skin. Kimmy tucked loose strands of her bright multi-colored hair back and joined the flow of people heading to the exits. The smell of oil, coffee and sweat mingled together and she felt desperate for some fresh air.

Once outside, the weather quickly changed her mind and Kimmy half-dashed to her apartment. Twenty minutes later, she was dripping wet and felt frozen to the bone. Letting herself in and catching the elevator, she went up to the place she currently called home. Unlocking the door, she found the lights off and remembered with a mixture of loneliness and thankfulness that her housemates, Sunny and her boyfriend Logan had gone on holiday on the weekend Kimmy had been away for.

Kimmy went into her bedroom, dumped her stuff and hurried into the shower. The hot water eased away the cold and aches from the cramped train seat. Getting out, dry and dressed and opened her rucksack. Emptying and sorting everything out, she spotted the black leather notebook and paused.

‘I forgot all about this,’ she said picking it up.

The silver writing glowed it’s warning at her, but unlike before when the notebook had been strange to her, Kimmy felt an odd connection to it. Setting it aside, she finished sorting out her things then climbed into the middle of her bed and slowly opened the notebook.

There was a soft creak of the binding and written a upon the first light yellow page was Sketches. The words ran diagonal with a slant and were surrounded by thin slashing lines. Kimmy turned the page. A baby dragon just hatching from a egg peeked up at her. Bold and thin pencil lines created shading in all the right areas, making the drawing look three dimensional. She looked closer and could make out some tiny spikes on the dragon’s head and the tips of the wings.

Kimmy peeled the paper and saw the next sketch to be a castle tower. On the next few pages were body parts of a horse then the horse itself, followed by parts of a medieval style knight then the knight himself till finally both images were put together. She paused over that sketch for awhile. Trying to take in all the intricate details of the knight’s armour and the muscles of the horse.

How could anyone not want to show these off? Kimmy’s mind raced, They are so good.  

Her fingertips slide along the corner of the page, but just as she was about to flip it, her mobile rang. Sighing deeply, she abandoned the notebook that had been warming in her hands and grabbed her phone. The caller ID flashed up it was her mother. Hitting answer, Kimmy mumbled an ‘Hello,’ into the phone and prayed her mum wasn’t about to rant about everything under the sun.

 

To Be Continued….

Banana Bread

She sniffed and wondered what that smell was. Pausing for the first time in hours, she half turned her head to glance at the attic door. A thin paint brush was glued to her dry lips and three more brushes stilled their ball juggling like movements in her hands. The large canvas before her demanded her attention back.

She looked at the overall painting and not just the small bottom sections she had been working on. It was a dark under the ocean scene with just a hint of rolling waves on top. She put down the paint brushes, gently removed the one from her mouth and stood up. Her body ached and protested, but still her bones clicked back and her muscles moved.

She walked away stiffly, like an hundred year old woman then turned once she had reached the bookcase. The painting filled her vision and the sweet banana smell lingered around her. What is that? She wondered and smelt the air again. It was a warm and rich aroma that hummed of homemade baking. It sang to her like a child with a sugary voice.

She shook her head and zoned back into the painting. The wreckages of ships both wooden and metal loomed out of the dark and eerie water. Sea weed and other salt water plants floated next to them whilst sea creatures of all kinds filled the rest of the space. It was good, life like yet with a handful of dark fantasy.

She took a note of different things, for example; the Kraken wrapped around the first wooden ship needed finishing. The hammerhead shark in the porthole faded too much into the background and she needed luminous paint for the jellyfishes. She hobbled back to her stool and sat down again. The two tables on both sides of the canvas and easel where packed with paints, brushes, jars of water, mixing trays, paper sketches and printed coloured photographs. She shuffled through everything and found an image of the hammerhead shark.

The colour is too dark, she realised as she compared things. Gathering a selection of grey paints, she began to figure out which one was accurate. The heavy whiffs of banana hugged around her and tugged her stomach away. Putting down the paints were a sigh, she got up and undid the apron covering her. Abandoning the paint encrusted fabric on the stool, she went to the attic door.

Opening it, she went down the steep staircase with bubbling regret. She stopped at the bottom and looked back up, knowing the painting wouldn’t be finished in time if she did this. She breathed deeply and the cake smell reassured her. She’d feel better it seemed to add. She went across the landing and down the two flights of main stairs to the kitchen.

She stopped at the half opened door and looked in. All she could see was the side of the fridge-freezer, some cupboards and to the other side, the edge of the kitchen table. The smell was at its peak but mingling with the hot oven and lemon cleaner. She opened the door, unable to stop herself and walked in.

From the table, her husband looked up guilty. Wordlessly, he slid an already full bowl over to her. The sight of banana bread in custard brought her almost to tears.

**********

The Story Files is now on Tumblr! http://thestoryfilesblog.tumblr.com/

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Origami

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.