A child’s origami boat, now the size of a house, drifts down a river of ink that bleeds into the sky. The boat’s sails are made of torn pages from a storybook, each fluttering with illustrations of creatures that never were—winged foxes with lantern tails, fish with clockwork scales, a crane with a human face weeping silver tears. On the shore, a crow watches, its feathers stitched together with threads of starlight. The water’s surface is so still it looks like glass, but if you listen, you can hear the echoes of a song sung by no one.