The Cylindrical Hello.

There is something in the road; two-dimensional, basically humanoid and made of paper. Its black elliptical eyes stare awe-filled and curious at the enormous bulk of metal hurtling along the asphalt towards it. The metal-thing’s eyes emanate an amazingly bright light, close to blinding the creature before it. The shadow behind the paper-man is growing longer. Closer and closer and closer and closer draws the metal-thing but the paper-man does not run or even look scared; it just continues to stare in child-like fascination at the loud monster of metal. The shadow behind the paper-man is growing longer. The metal-thing starts to bark and yell at the paper-man but the paper-man simply tilts its head slightly and continues its unfaltering gaze. The shadow behind the paper-man is growing longer. After what seemed like a very long time but was actually only a few seconds the metal-thing and the paper-man meet. If you have ever seen a motorized vehicle pass over a piece of paper that was lying on the road then you know exactly what happens next, but for those of you who have not I shall elaborate; the paper-man is bowled over, tossed around under the car rapidly and erratically for a while and then rockets into the air. The paper-man is caught by a passing breeze and begins to glide along with it. The paper-man thanks it kindly for catching it.
The breeze tells him he is most welcome and says: “I am on a journey to see as many things as possible before I die. You are welcome to come, if you so wish, and also welcome to depart my company at any junction of our travels.”
The paper-man accepts the breeze’s offer with the utmost enthusiasm, grateful to have found such a kind companion. Soon, they are passing over a thick pine forest, which stretches further than either of them can see. It reaches the very top of snow-capped mountains and descends far into the deepest valleys. When the paper-man looks very closely he can see small and furry creatures playing in the treetops. They are of all colours and dance with such flawless timing that the paper-man thinks that they must simply live to dance and be happy. The spectacle makes him smile and breaks his paper-heart at the same time. His heart is visible, a red love-heart shaped mark on the left side of his chest and, if you look closely, visibly torn all along the edge. This does not go unnoticed by the breeze, and, though its own windy heart can not be said to be entirely undamaged, it feels rather awkward, as if it has walked in on something very private and decides to ask a question to break the silence.
“Why were you standing in the middle of that road?”
“I was looking for something,” answers the paper-man.
“What were you looking for?”
“I have no idea, but I am sure I will know when I find it.”
The breeze is puzzled but makes no further inquiry on the subject. Instead it asks if there is anywhere that the paper-man has never been to but has always longed to see. After some thought the paper-man describes a place he once dreamt about; it was a palace made of volcanic glass hidden by a mighty forest of unfathomably tall willow trees in which a paper-princess lived with her faithful servant and a black paper-horse. It was at the bottom of a lake, which was filled with something that was much like water but without the buoyancy and the getting wet. The paper-man asks the breeze if it has ever heard of such a place. The breeze considers this.
“I don’t know about the paper-princess and her servant and horse, but I know of a castle at the bottom of a lake which is hidden by ‘The Forest of Abnormally Tall Willows,’” it says eventually. “It’s rather difficult to get there, so it might be best if we visit a few other places and people first and seek out some advice about how best to do so.”
“Whatever you wish to do is fine by me, breeze,” says the paper-man with a slightly curled mouth.
“Well, in that case, I suggest we go to the south. My mother, the Moon, once told me of a sage who lives in a house suspended by trees. I am sure he would have at least a small something for us to go on.”
“All right. Let’s go!”
The breeze takes a sharp turn and the pair begin to head south, flying far from the forest valley and the small dancing things in the treetops. Quite soon they reach the ocean. The sun is setting as it always does on this side of the water, hovering over the waves like some great child’s ball giving comfort and warmth to all who bathe in its wonderful orange light. The ocean sparkles under its light with ever shifting patterns, entertaining the crowd of friends, lovers and families gathered on the beach who “Ooh” and “Aah” at this brilliant, magical sight.
The paper-man sighs and smiles his sad smile. He is wondering when he will find what he is looking for. The breeze looks over the sea as they head for the horizon; it is thinking that, even though it has been here many times before, the spectacle of the sparkling, rippling water becomes no less beautiful to behold. It thinks about its new friend, the paper-man, and its heart flusters. It tries to avoid looking at him, but can’t help taking the occasional glance, each unnoticed by the paper-man. The breeze sighs quietly. Quite soon the beach becomes nothing more than a line on the horizon and then disappears out of sight once and for all. As the two draw closer to the huge orange orb that is the sun it, too, simply falls into the line drawn by the distant shore of the neighboring continent. Behind them a great silver sphere rises up from the continent they just left; she is the Moon, mother of the winds and tides. She is watching over her child, the breeze, on its journey to her lands with its strange, acquiescent companion. She smiles proudly at the spectacle and remembers days passed as a young celestial body in love with a great roaring ball of fire with whom she once embarked on her own journey.

The two reach the tree house of the aforementioned sage and what a tree house it is. The tree is at least fifty feet tall and the house has rooms from the bottom of the trunk all the way to the branches at the very top. There is a staircase that spirals around the tree leading to each room and the shape of it reminds the paper-man of an elongated spider or perhaps a centipede. Each room is different. On high is a room that is simply fenced of platform with several comfortable chairs and a thin tin roof for shelter. There is one like a dome with a glass roof containing all manner of flowers and vegetable plants. Another looks exactly like the image that comes into your head when the word house is mentioned with no adjectives at the front; it has a red door, again of the kind that forms in your mind whenever anyone mentions a nondescript door, perfectly pristine and welcoming. The breeze says that it will wait while the paper-man talks to the sage, for most creatures of the world cannot see or even hear the true voices of the winds, but merely feel them flow past them and hear them whistle in their ear. The paper-man approaches the room closest to the bottom of the tree for there is a sign above its door that says ‘Knock and enter here.’ He reaches the door and hears music; someone is playing violin while someone, obviously male, is singing. The song is clearly some kind of ballad dedicated to someone very close to whoever wrote it. He waits until the music stops before he knocks, just in case no one hears him over the noise and shortly after he does a man with a great white beard and graying hair answers the door. He smiles gently at the paper-man and inquires as to what it is he is here for. The paper-man tells him.
“Ah yes, the sage!” says the bearded man, “Yes, yes, he is here and will be, I’m sure, more than happy to satisfy your inquiry to the best of his abilities. If you’d like to come in and take a seat then I will fetch some tea, if you would care to have some.”
The paper-man says that he would be glad of just some water, if he pleases, and thanks him kindly for his generosity. The man smiles and stands back to let the paper-man in and indicates a blue armchair in front of the fireplace, which, much to the paper-man’s relief, is not lit. In the corner of the room there is a beautiful woman of similar age to the man setting down a violin in its case. She smiles sweetly at the paper-man and introduces herself as Hannah. The man excuses himself to go and fetch the tea, which Hannah would love a cup of, and the paper-man’s water.
Hannah and the paper-man sit near the hearth.
“What is it that brings you here?” asks Hannah. The paper-man is reduced to a state of coyness under the presence of her smile; he has never seen a smile so lovely as hers.
“I am here to see the sage. There is somewhere I wish to go and I believe he can help me get there,” replies the paper-man.
“Sounds wonderful! Or is it not? Why is it you wish to go to where you are going?”
“I am looking for something.”
“Oh? I was looking for something once but it turns out I had it all along! I felt so foolish. I take it you do not know exactly what it is you are looking for?”
“No, but I believe I read about it once. I once lived in a library, you see. It is called the Heart’s Desire. Do you know of it?”
“Oh yes! I know all about the Heart’s Desire. But not as much as the sage does, I fear. Perhaps it would be best if you asked him about it as well, when you ask how to get to where you want to go.”
She has not stopped smiling since the paper-man had entered the room. He feels self-conscious, which so far had made it rather difficult to concentrate on what she was saying, even though he knew it was important. He asks her if she was smiling because she was happy about something in particular.
“Of course! You see, a while ago, I found my own Heart’s Desire and he makes me so happy that I quite often forget to stop smiling.”
He has another question and is about to ask it but the man re-enters the room holding a tray with two steaming teacups and one glass of pure, crystal clear water. Hannah stands and walks over to him, takes her cup of tea and she and the man smile and look into each other’s eyes for a moment. The paper-man feels awkward and embarrassed at this and stares at his feet. He looks up again when the door closes and it becomes apparent that Hannah has exited the room. The man sits in the seat that Hannah had just been sitting in. He hands him his glass. The first thing he says, with a wry smile, is:
“If you hadn’t figured it out already, I am the sage.” The paper-man states that he had his suspicions, but could not be entirely sure. The sage approves.
“Of course, how can anyone be sure of anything without it being confirmed by someone older or perhaps just more experienced than themselves? Anyway, I understand you are looking for the Heart’s Desire. Where do you suspect you will find it?”
“Well,” says the paper-man in a somewhat pensive manner, “I sometimes have a dream of a castle of volcanic glass. It is hidden by a forest called The Forest of Abnormally Tall Willows and is at the bottom of a lake filled with something that looks like water but with none of water’s usual properties. Do you know of such a place?”
“Of course, of course, just head west for half a mile from here and then south until you see a lake through a gap in between two sheer rock faces. That part’s easy. The difficult part is getting past The Tall Stranger, the guardian of the castle. He is made all of shadow and is therefore impossible to destroy, since he is not truly alive. But there’s one way but it will only work once. I have in my possession a ward, which you must wear around your neck; it will allow you to pass by The Tall Stranger undetected. If you ever wish to leave the castle, however, you must either hope that they have a similar item to my ward or that you can somehow sneak past him, which may be possible for he will be facing the other way. It would not be possible on the way in for he can see all before him, whether it is obscured by another object or no. He has a magic eye made of star fragments, you see.”
The paper-man considers this for a while. He rubs his chin in thought, though he couldn’t tell you why. He then asks one question: “Why do you call him The Tall Stranger?”
The sage looks confused.
“… Because he is tall and nobody knows who he is. Or even why he is guarding the lake.”
The paper-man thanks the sage for his advice and asks him what price he is asking for the use of his ward. The sage shakes his head and says that he found his Heart’s Desire a long time ago and wants for nothing more than he has now. The paper-man smiles the kind of smile that makes it practically impossible to tell what he is really thinking. There’s something about the shape of it that throws people off. The sage escorts him to the door where Hannah joins them once more. Hannah hands him a pendant the shape of a crescent moon embracing the sun and he thanks her shyly under the brightness of her expression. They wave him goodbye as the breeze picks him up and, after a moment’s council, heads west.

The Moon hangs in the sky, gracefully smiling and casting its silver light over the landscape mingling with a strange aura being emitted from something over some dark green, forested hills just out of sight. It is every colour, from the red end of the spectrum to the blue. It blends with the ethereal glow of the moon to create something close to indescribable but I shall try to anyway. The scene under the paper-man and the breeze is a flat plain at the base of numerous mountains. It is midnight and so the trees covering the plain (apart from the occasional clearing) are a deep, dark green and flecked with snow. Pure white butterflies flutter and dance around with deep blue, almost black Angelfish around the treetops, ducking and diving, disappearing and reappearing at sporadic intervals. Everything in sight is bathed in the light from the Moon and whatever lies just over the horizon so that everything sparkles with every colour, shining like precious jewels. To be flying swiftly over this wonderful place is exactly what the breeze had wanted when it set out on its journey and it swells with all the happiness trapped within it. The paper-man laughs, overcome with happiness; being here, or even just the mere knowledge that somewhere like this exists, made them both so glad to simply be alive. Then, too soon, far too soon, they draw closer to the mountains and then further and further until this magical, wondrous valley is out of sight.

They reach the place the sage told them to look for. Most of the area around the lake is obscured by the great rock faces with a small gap in between them where stands an extremely tall humanoid figure, so tall that his head is almost level with the top of the cliffs. He is coloured totally black, or perhaps… he is coloured the colour of the night. The breeze decides, with confirmation from the paper-man, that it would be a good idea to rest somewhere nearby before attempting to get through and into the castle. The paper-man is wearing his talisman, his charm and it glows and hums slightly as they draw nearer to the powerful aura of The Tall Stranger. He feels a consciousness from it as if it knows that it may soon fulfill its purpose. The pair sit down by a small trickle of water over some smooth, round stones (what you might call a brook.) The breeze leaves the paper-man’s side to talk to some passing winds in order to inquire as to how The Tall Stranger reacts to breezes and so the paper-man is left alone with his thoughts. He is wondering about the paper-princess, about whether she is what he is looking for, the Heart’s Desire. He feels that a Heart’s Desire is an odd thing; it is very hard to tell exactly what yours is and it isn’t like anyone can tell you. He thinks about the breeze, his first ever friend, rescuing him from an undesirable fate of floating aimlessly around on unfriendly thermals. He thinks about Hannah and the sage and wonders what their story is and maybe he should go back and see them again and ask them. He wonders what awaits him after his Heart’s Desire. He is lost in his own world of uncertainty and speculation. He remembers that he has been traveling for a while and the tiredness is catching up with him. His eyes begin to droop. The water makes a pleasant sound as it flows over the rocks before him, babbling happily like a crowd of liquid finches or puppies, soothing his mind and soon he is fast asleep.

The paper-man is dreaming. He is an owl in full flight with a massive wingspan. He is on the hunt. Down below him waits his prey but he cannot see it yet. He waits for the moment when it makes its move and he can strike. His eyes dart around as he circles the small cluster of shrubs where he knows the mouse is waiting. In an instant the mouse runs from out under a leaf and he is upon it like lightning. He chuckles triumphantly. Now he is himself. He is walking along a trail of brass leaves towards a bright golden light. He walks and walks but never seems to get any closer to whatever is projecting the light. He feels a presence behind him: something is quietly following him. He resists tensing up and stays at constant pace to avoid letting it know that he knows that it is there. A note plays, somewhere between B and B flat, unbroken and low, coming from whatever is following him. The paper-man is afraid and curious. He tries to resist it but the temptation is just too strong; he turns around. Metal teeth and razor claws are bearing down on him, their only intention to cause him as much pain as possible, but he is not afraid. He opens his arms wide and embraces the horrible death that surely awaits him and as soon as it reaches him he knows that he was wrong; this is no monster. It is his Heart’s Desire. His eyes are closed but he does not remember closing them. He tries to open them, to gaze upon his Heart’s Desire but he finds this exceedingly difficult. As he struggles he hears a voice coming from somewhere in the distance. His eyes still won’t open and the voice is getting closer. His heart is filled with the dread that he will not find out what his Heart’s Desire is before he wakes. Finally his eyes open but he is no longer holding anything in warm embrace but is looking at the breeze and he knows that he is awake and out of reach of the knowledge he was trying so hard to obtain.

The breeze apologizes for waking him and the paper-man smiles and tells him that it is not a problem, though he is not being entirely truthful, made slightly irate having information he so desired being snatched from under his nose. This feeling, however, passes swiftly. He watches the breeze intently as it informs him that The Tall Stranger does not care about breezes passing through the gap in the cliffs for there isn’t really much he can do about it, and tells him about the wind it asked for information and how he thought that it was likely that the monstrous thing didn’t even realize that every breeze and breath of wind was sentient. He notices something different about the breeze as if it has been cast under some new light. The paper-man now thinks.
I’ve come this far but there is a nagging something in the back of my head. Hannah was talking about how she had what she was looking for all along… Oh. Now I understand.
“You know breeze, you’ve done rather a lot for me. You rescued me and selflessly have been trying to help me obtain what I want. I rather think that this is what the call an epiphany. I realize now what my Heart’s Desire is. My heart belongs to you.”
And he took his paper heart from his chest and offered it to the breeze. All of the tearing around the edge had vanished completely. The breeze beamed and took its own heart, now blustering furiously, and gave it to the paper-man. Now the paper-man has a heart of wind and the breeze a heart of red paper.