I am following the child. She continues following something she is sure is there, through she has no evidence it exists. We are chasing something. An origami swan drops at our feet in pieces, She picks them up excitedly. 

I am not so sure ~ but continue following. A few steps more, several tiny folded paper swans dropped by the father flutter down. She swoops them up and slips away. 

I search to find her again near the river. A row of sliding doors, narrow, old and worn are aligned against a fence. I am not sure there is room for me to squeeze through. 

I step back and ask. The doors edge forward slightly, just enough space for me to slip through.

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