The words that remained
                                                                       
 
Spelling a word
Wording a spell
D.I.S.C.O.M.B.O.B.U.L.A.T.E.D
Characterized by confusion or disorder.
 
Discombobulated, short of lost, unspoken or unheard, ineffable words, her story might have been real or a confabulation, a memory error, the product of fabricated, distorted, or misinterpreted memories of herself, her life, and the world at large. You might find anything from subtle inaccuracies to surreal fabrications, and some confusion or distortion in the temporal framing, but regardless - however true or mistaken - the words that remained gave her a reason to live.
 
***
 
Spelling a word
Wording a spell
O.R.I.G.A.M.I
The Japanese art of folding paper into decorative shapes and figures.
 
The first word she can easily remember is crane.
She will soon believe it might even have been her first word.
 
From a childhood memory,
plummeting from the ceiling,
thousands of flying folded papers,
paper cranes and paper swans,
jumping frogs and butterflies,
lotus flowers and little hearts,
thousands of fortune tellers:
“Choose a number, choose a colour,
the fortune teller will predict your future.”
 
She remembers spending hours
writing riddles and secrets
inside each and every fold,
hidden behind little dots of colours,
one, two, three, four, five or six,
blue, green, purple, yellow or pink.
 
The tiny pieces of folded coloured papers
blown around by the ceiling fan.
 
Passing through the open window, a stream of hot breeze
dispersing high in the air wingless origami shapes,
insufflating life to the thousands of possibilities
of whom she might become.
 
To the rhythm of the fan slowing down,
thousands of papers landing on the ground.
Pieces of loose pages torn from a secret notebook,
scribbled notes, ineffable words,
the unfathomable value of a life yet to live.
Maybe even the secret of life itself.
 
Landing deliberately on the ground,
revealing a treasure map, tracing a path,
hoping to show her the way,
thousands of clues and glimpses.
 
Puzzled, she tries to remember.
She tries to unravel her own words.
 
She can see her tiny hands meticulously folding the paper crane.
She recognizes her childhood handwriting.
She reminisces the taste of the coloured pencils.
 
But she cannot decipher the messages.
The words are illegible or unrelated to each other.
The wonky lines form sentences that do not make sense.
 
Are these even words?