She folds a paper crane. Folds, unfolds, folds again. Movement. A type of growth. Smaller, yet larger: a bird’s beak or wing. She doesn’t know what she’s folding yet, is still tied to instructions (even though the instructions have failed). She is surrounded by crumpled paper - bright flashes of color against beige carpet - and half-formed or deformed cranes. Folding. Unfolding - none can fly or soar yet. They are safe for the moment, resting in their inability to fly, but she is trying again. Folding and unfolding again. She studies the paper. She looks for the crane’s center. Which fold is it? Which unfolding will reveal its center, its heart?