i am sending smoke signals. can you see them? can you read them?

i am making a paper snowflake out of my life. as i cut the little pieces off, i am not sure how my flake will to turn out. every dash i make i have some hope that it will be striking once the paper is opened. i go this way and that way and with every turn the scissor takes i know the shape will be there to stay. and after every cut i make i open the paper. sometimes a seemingly boring cut turns out so intricate on the other end. the cuts that are elaborate, that wave in and out, are mostly disastrous. but sometimes they are not. then i am soo happy that i ever made them. soon the paper will have too many cuts. and i will not be there to open it. somebody else will look at it and decide if it is beautiful.

you can make them, too.