Pastime

Today I decided that I’m going to write.

Not because I think I’m so important that future generations would want to know about it, but because I discovered how to make these thin sheets that fold and store so easily, and it would be a shame not to use them. I thought of giving them a special name, but nothing came to mind, so I’ll just keep calling them sheets.

Well then, I’ll write something about myself. I come from a tropical island in a completely different world. One day, without warning, everything turned white… and suddenly, I found myself in this place. I arrived as a little girl, barely able to walk, and that was when an elderly woman found me.

By the way, my name is Anna. It’s a curious name. She was the one who invented it—or rather, who cut it in half. She used to say she really liked the sound of Lady Inanna’s name, but that it was too long and solemn for a child who was always climbing onto rooftops just to stare at the horizon.

It makes me happy to think she was the first to split a name apart as if it were bread. I don’t know if the goddess would be pleased about that, but I am. Anna is short, easy to write on this sheet.

Lately I’ve noticed that everyone in the village uses wheels: to carry jars of water, to move heavy stones, even to stroll children around when they don’t feel like walking. I’m glad they work. I confess: I was the one who thought of them first, among other things.

But I didn’t want eyes fixed on me, so I kept it a secret and let others take the credit for the achievements.

Today, as I was returning to my distant home, I watched the birds fluttering over the rooftops while the sun was setting. I wondered how it was possible for them to interact with the sky.

At that very moment, a feather detached and slowly drifted down in front of me. So I didn’t waste time and caught it quickly in the air. It’s curious to see how the wind holds it up.

I thought it was because of its weight: a rock falls because it’s heavy, wood as well. But this feather seemed to weigh nothing at all. Maybe, I told myself, that’s the reason why birds can fly and we cannot.

As I kept walking, I saw how the wind played with the dried leaves from the trees. Some twirled in the air before touching the ground, as if hesitating whether to land or keep floating a little longer.

Then I looked at mine, the ones I write on. They’re not as light as a feather, nor as fragile as the ones carried away by the wind… but what if they could fly, too?

To test it, I took a sheet and threw it along with a stone. As expected, the stone was the winner. The poor sheet barely spun before surrendering to the ground.

But I wasn’t satisfied. I took a small twig and the same stone, and this time I climbed onto the roof of my house to throw them from the highest point. I wanted to be sure.

When I released them at the same time, they fell together! Neither the stone went ahead nor the twig lagged behind. They touched the ground at the very same instant, as if they had agreed to do so.

I stayed for a long while staring at the spot where they had fallen, wondering if everything that drops, no matter how different it seems, obeys the same rule I still don’t understand.

The idea wouldn’t leave me alone. If a sheet could float a little and a feather even more, what would happen if I tried to build a small bird out of my own sheets? Maybe, if I gave it the right shape, I could trick the air into holding it up.

I sat on the ground, folding and bending in every way I could think of. First I tried large wings and a small body: it fell immediately. Then I made one with shorter, straight wings: another failure. With every attempt, the supposed bird collapsed midair, dropping as if mocking me.

The sky grew darker and I still hadn’t managed anything.

After a while, I decided to try a simpler design. I took another sheet and folded it into a long triangle, spreading the wings as best I could. Deep down I knew it wouldn’t fly, that it would end up falling like all the others, but I wanted to try anyway.

I climbed back onto the roof and launched it into the air. For an instant I held my breath. The sheet began to fall… and then something incredible happened: it kept its line, floating a little longer than I expected.

“Ha! I knew it would work!”

Well, I didn’t really think I’d succeed today.

From afar I watched as it calmly glided toward the horizon, which at that moment was burning with golden and orange colors. I stood gazing, as if the whole sky had welcomed it to accompany its little flight.

Then, something strange happened.

High in the night, countless lights began to shine, like new stars awakened after a long rest. Among them appeared a figure walking out from that fiery horizon.

I rubbed my eyes, thinking it was a dream. But no, it was there: a being dressed in garments of solid appearance. On its head it wore something unusual, a polished material that reflected the last rays like a drop of water.

I stared, unable to move. And then the most astonishing thing of all occurred: that being took my sheet of paper, which was still floating in the air, held it carefully, and with firm hands unfolded it. In an instant, it gave it a completely new shape, unlike any I had tried.

Without thinking, I approached, my heart pounding hard. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing: someone, coming from the lights of the sky, improving what I had spent the whole day trying to create.

The being lifted its gaze toward me.

“Do not fear,” it said in a calm voice, so clear it seemed to resonate more in my head than in the air. “Around here, I’m better known as an Anunnaki.”

The word sent a shiver through me. I had heard that name in whispers, in stories told by the elders. Powerful beings from the heavens… but I never imagined one of them would be standing before me, holding my fragile sheet as if it were worthy of attention.

“You’re not like they say…” I told him.

He stared at me intently and then spoke again.

“I understand you,” he replied. “After all, we were portrayed in quite… extravagant ways.”

What a surprise…