Paper Jilu

The tall, wrought iron gate is open. It is the first time in two years that Jilu wishes to share her imagination with me again.

Jilu can create quite the brainstorm. With the aid of her small, black notebook, a Moleskine, she brainstorms ideas that flash as visual images before one’s eyes. Jilu chooses when the time is right for her to share her ideas with someone.

Walking slowly towards the open gate, I inhale a deep, nervous breath. I never know what to expect from Jilu.

As I reach the gate, I hear a sound: swish, swish. A page from Jilu's small, black notebook is hanging from the branch of a blossom tree, flapping in the breeze. Stepping closer, I dare to peek at the page. It has some blue, scrawly waves drawn on it. It is a note that Jilu obviously got frustrated with and let float away into the air.

Detaching itself from the branch, the page flies through the wind and lands with a thump against my chest. I stumble backwards, landing with a splash in deep water.

Suddenly, I am sinking. I flail my arms, reaching desperately towards the water surface. My lungs fill with water rapidly, causing me to choke. I cough, trying to expel the water from my lungs.

Barely able to breathe, I harness my remaining strength and kick my legs hard, propelling myself up further towards the water's surface. My head finally emerges from under the waves and I blink vigorously, trying to clear my eyes of the stinging water droplets. The fog begins to lift from my vision and I realise that I have landed in a river.

The water is choppy and tosses me around like a strong breeze on a windy day. I tread like mad against the current, keeping myself floating upright. Coughing violently, I heave the water out of my lungs in a giant splash, which freezes mid air.

“Your inner strength,” a soft whisper echoes as I brace myself, trying to catch a breath. “It is motivated and energetic, Jory. Look at the enormous splash of a wave you’ve created.”

I am still treading water, beginning to feel cold. “Is that you, Jilu?” I ask nervously.

“Call me Paper Jilu,” the whisperer replies. “I see you have helped my discarded idea come to life.”

Still thrashing in the water, my gaze falls upon Jilu. She is standing on a grassy lawn, flicking through the pages of her Moleskine. “I saw you walking by Jory,” she smiles. “I left the brainstormed idea hanging off a tree branch to catch your attention. It’s time that scrawly wave idea is developed further into a complete piece of work. Do you have the note?

"Yes, it's stuck to my chest," I reply.

"Good. Use it to help you now," Jilu suggests.

Jilu’s hair has been extended with black strands of curled paper. Her face is decorated with separate note papers that illustrate her pencil drawn, narrow brown eyes, triangular nose and small hill-like cheek bones. Jilu’s lips are smudged into a star shape with what appears to be an aqua coloured water marker.

Jilu’s body is decorated with many note papers from her Moleskine. Each paper carries her single thought trail, dialogue, narrative or sketch. She embodies the creativity of her brainstorms.

After two years apart, I realise that Jilu is willing to discuss her ideas again. I touch the scrawly wave note. It whispers enticingly: "Climb the wave!"

Swimming across the water, I reach the end of the giant wave, which makes frozen contact with the river’s surface. Treading out of the river water, I step up and across the frozen wave. I can feel the warm sun on my skin, taking away my shivering state.

“How do you wish to journey through your piece?” I ask Jilu, watching as she flutters across the grass in excitement.

“On a boat on the river,” she says. I can see her star lip stretching into what could be interpreted as a smile. “A large, mysterious boat. I’ve drawn some ideas, I will float them towards you.”

Jilu takes some papers out of her Moleskine and releases them into the air. They float towards me surreally, as though they are snippets of an undiscovered dream wanting to reveal itself. Once they land in my right hand, they project their visual imagery. The boat is large, created out of paper. The hull contains two passenger seats and a gunwale to hold tackle and belongings. As I look at the boat, I notice that it can change shape: into a floating heart, triangle, star or whatever shape one chooses for it to be.

“What shape would you like this boat to be, Jilu?” I ask her.

“A floating star,” Jilu says softly. “So I can sit on any point and see different views of the world.”

“Floating star it is then,” I say decisively. Bending my legs, I jump into the star boat, landing head first in the hull. I stand up, shaking my head clear of dizziness.

Once I’ve recovered, I grab the oar and begin to steer the boat. The wave unfreezes, splashing away, enabling the boat to drift.

“Come and join me!” I call out to Jilu. “This boat needs your unique ideas to continue its journey.”

“Okay,” Jilu agrees, rising upwards towards the sky. She floats through the breeze towards me, her paper notes ruffling everywhere. Reaching for Jilu’s paper hand, I pull her gently into the hull.

“Wow!” Jilu is amazed. “It is quite the experience having my ideas come to life.”

The boat sets sail, journeying across the enormous wave, which veers in many directions. It is quite the task, keeping the boat safe as it crests and splashes through the waves.

Jilu is sifting through her Moleskine, a thinking expression in her eyes. “It’s starting to get dark,” she says. “I’ve got an idea to help us out.” She draws away intensely.

After a few minutes, she begins to search her body for a specific piece of paper. “There it is!” she exclaims. “I brainstormed some notes about the gases required to light up a star and they’re jotted on my arm paper dangling here. We need to create a star mass of three quarters hydrogen and one quarter helium.

“That will give it enough fuel to light up?” I ask.

Jilu nods.

“Let’s make it happen,” I say. “I endow you star, with a body mass of three quarters hydrogen and one quarter helium.”

I can feel a warm sensation under my legs as the star begins to warm up. After a few minutes, Jilu calls out in excitement: “Look at the star’s points, they’re lighting up!’

A beautiful, warm yellow light glows from each point, enabling us to see better in the darkness.

“How beautiful,” I say. “What a great set of lily pad shaped lights Jilu.”

As we sail along, a frog jumps on one of the lily pads, resting in the warm light.

“Thankyou for giving us amphibians this warm light,” Frog says, turning to look at both of us. “I am one of Jilu’s creations. I am here to ensure that she completes her story.”

“Of course she will,” I say.

“Will you help me this time?” Jilu looks at me. “We both know that we separated for a while due to our creative differences.”

“Yes,” I put my head down. “I can see that you have completely committed yourself to your work, Jilu.”

“This story means everything to me,” Jilu says softly. “I carry it with me everywhere. I don’t want it to remain as a mere set of brainstorms. I want to complete a story at least once in my life time.”

“You shall do so,” Frog croaks. “The final chapter of your story involves you both working out a way to get me back home to my pond. I am the Prince of pond frogs and have been trying to return for a long while. This lily pad light has kept me warmer than I have been for weeks.”

Jilu stares directly into my eyes. “Jory,” she says. “I have brainstormed some ideas for the pond, which I think will suit Frog very well. I need your open mind to bring it to life. Will you help?”

“Of course,” I reply. “Can I see your brainstorm?”

Jilu shows me her sketches in her Moleskine. The pond is small and houses many lotus flowers, reeds and lily pads.

“What a beautiful, picturesque brainstorm, Jilu,” I say. “It’s a very fit design for the home of the Prince of pond frogs.”

As we continue to float through the wavy water, an idea pops into my head. “We can make anything happen with our joint creativity,” I say. “All we have to do is transform the water into the right setting.”

“What do you mean?” asks Jilu, curiously.

“Watch this,” I close my eyes and picture the wave becoming a lot smaller, pond size.

“The wave is shrinking!” I hear Jilu cry.

I keep my eyes closed, picturing Jilu’s pond drawing. I hear a wondrous gasp from Jilu and the Frog.

“My pond!” Frog cries. “Thankyou! You've brought me home!” Frog jumps into the water, calling out to its kind: “I’m home! I’m home!”

The boat is now too big for the pond and needs to be docked at the pier. After the boat is anchored, I sit on the grass, catching a breath. Jilu looks at me again, this time with a large, starry smile. “Thankyou,” she says. “Our story is not completed just yet. There is one, final climactic moment that will decide our future.”

Jilu walks ahead of me, almost floating in the early rising dawn. She stops in front of a very large lily pad on which Frog sits.

“Are you ready for your final challenge, Jory?” Frog asks.

“Yes,” I say confidently.

Frog lifts up his lily pad and reveals a bundle of dollar notes. “Jilu designed this bundle of twenty thousand dollar notes to be buried under this lily pad. I hand them to you now to keep as a reward for your troubles.”

I am taken aback as I receive the twenty thousand dollars in my hand. It is a lot of money. In the past, I would have taken this money, thinking I deserved it more than most. My placing money as a top priority for work is what separated Jilu and I for two years. This journey has changed my feelings.

I stare directly into Jilu’s eyes. “I will not receive this money but will treat it merely as a prop in a picturesque scene. We both know it can be imagined away at any moment. What I value more than anything, is the creative process we have engaged in to make this story happen.” I hand the money back to Frog.

“Thankyou Jory! This money will make a warm shelter for us frogs,” says the smiling Frog.

Jilu sobs with relief. “With your willingness and commitment, Jory, our story has flowed and thrived,” she says thankfully. "We have finally completed the story together."

“What a great story it is!” I beam happily.

The stars shine very brightly on the boat, rising Jilu high into the air. The brainstormed papers fly off her body and group together, binding themselves within the Moleskine notebook.

Jilu stands before me, her beautiful smile setting her bright, hazel eyes alight.

“Let’s begin a new story, from scratch, together in this notebook,” I say to her.

Jilu smiles. “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” she says. “You can brainstorm this time.”

“I certainly will,” I agree.

Sitting down, I receive the precious Moleskine from Jilu and open my mind to the endless possibilities of story telling in the wondrously small, black notebook.