Ariadne finds Arthur's current number in a way that is not likely at all surprising but certainly very effective; she asks Professor Miles for Dominick Cobb's contact information. The ex-extractor owes her and while Ariadne is not in the habit of collecting from a broken man, she figures he can spare an accurate telephone number. She knows better than to send anything via post. Even if Cobb's information is correct, it could very quickly not be due to any multitude of factors, so she takes the 21st century method instead.
Worlds less poetic, but similarly worlds more likely to reach him, the text actually does not include a message of Ariadne's own, per se. It's simply an image attachment that looks something like this, and the words incorporated are from different poems - never the entirety of any of them, but almost they seem to form a completely new one that runs together, a river of words into an ocean of more.
She wasn't lying when she told Eames she designs something every day, but this one stands out in a way that the architect suspects it will for quite some time, even archived away as it already is by the time she sends Arthur the message encrypting it.
Worlds less poetic, but similarly worlds more likely to reach him, the text actually does not include a message of Ariadne's own, per se. It's simply an image attachment that looks something like this, and the words incorporated are from different poems - never the entirety of any of them, but almost they seem to form a completely new one that runs together, a river of words into an ocean of more.
She wasn't lying when she told Eames she designs something every day, but this one stands out in a way that the architect suspects it will for quite some time, even archived away as it already is by the time she sends Arthur the message encrypting it.
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