The Momentum of Folding

Toro y moi hums in my ears

Blues and greys and whites swirl in front of me

Today I’m practicing the art of Japanese bookbinding 

Coarse papers with smooth creases pile up

I’m lost in the momentum of folding 

The Japanese bookbinders knew how to build dreams with their hands

Every day is like this, every page starts out the same

The momentum of folding leaves pieces of me between each page.

I weave days together, leaving room for passing moments to linger and breathe

The pages are empty but they’re mine to fill

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