Mar. 16th, 2011

There are those who fold space mechanically, without passion. They do not truly understand.

I reach into the inner space. There I make delicate folds - precise, methodical. Geometric planes compress into a fractal flower. The flower opens, and I vanish.

Two creases and the flower becomes a pinwheel. I blow gently. I transit through non-Euclidean lattices without passing through intervening space.

Now, the tricky part. A subtle seaming, then the structure is inverted. The construct becomes a crane. It dips its beak. I re-enter normal space, miles from my origin.

Folding space is Origami. There is Art to it.

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hwrnmnbsol

September 2012

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