A creative response to Red Folded Organic Form by Olivia Kan-Sperling
And lo and behold, a little man came pouring out from the far-most parlour room door. He was made of a heavy but molten material—one of the new elements, I thought. He could move swiftly, but only towards True North. (Magnetism was all the rage then.) His small, shiny boots never fully left the carpet; he seemed to walk more in the way of a rolling wave, by distributing his mass from point to point, like a soldier-shaped slug or an hourglass.