paul floats in space, dormant. unaware. he floats endlessly and in such a still manner, oblivious to all outside intrusions. peaceful. anywhere in space, he could be floating. he could merely be one of the many satellites orbiting our home star, drifting listlessly in his amphibian flesh prison. or he could be out far away, among the brightest quasar or floating in a vast nebula, sparkling like a gem among the twirling gas and endless shrapnel. perhaps we will never know, not until the day he returns just for the hell of it, until he flutters down into a stagnant pond, eager for another demographic to discover his unbounded beauty. such is the ambiguity of it all.
