In that head the head of the hand was a love story. Across from her the her of the hand was a friend. The house had been emptied not passively the people had simply left, willingly, it was about to be Christmas even if no snow had ever fallen on this world. In this world it was autumn and then spring in this world leaves were falling still in December just before Christmas.

The emptiness was making everything more present. People normally took all the space and when they left silence and objects appeared quietly. The white room with the window was suddenly bare brightly bare of absent dancing feet of absent loud music. It had become appropriate to tip-toe around it had become appropriate to wear sweaters as if they were hugs it had become appropriate to talk about the future in front of the roaring fire.

The silence was full of noises the head full of broken hearts the friend wearing brown the friend smiling the friend asking are you thinking about him. It was autumn in the winter. The tea was cooling down on the counter steam rising from the cup.

The balcony was his castle the balcony was the only space he knew about that felt safe he would sit on it let his legs hang in the void below him sometimes he would think about his shoes what would happen if one day the knot would come undone and his shoe fall he tried to imagine it falling faster and faster hitting someone on the head. The slow motion of the body collapsing blood on the sidewalk unreality of it all him looking from above small shapes running around, screaming, like ants. Sometimes he would look around him and try to find as many unknown details as he could about the skyline. A broken window. The colour of a rooftop. A naked couple. Birds flying around found food. He could see stories unfold, silent movies of normal lives.

The paper plane he had made a paper plane once again he would send it fly away he would look at it follow a secret wind current go up and down and finally disappear, falling. He would hide treasures inside it, drawing, candies, sand. It made him happy to think about the person who would find it. One day maybe he would leave him too he would go explore the world he would find adventures he would be free. One day maybe someone would find a plane and understand him without words and would make a response another paper plane sent his way one day maybe he would be less alone.