Niccotine and Jitterbug Perfume

The longest day of the year is coming. The longest day of the year is coming but it's been raining all week and the sky is murky and coloured charcoal by six thirty. On nights like this I pretend I'm infinite: I've been here so many times before. I pretend I'll outlive the rust and concrete and trees. I pretend I'll see the rivers run dry. I pretend I'll walk around the world, the ocean floor parched and cracking. I also pretend that I'm impervious to geological and sociological decay, that I'm untouchable. Untouchable except for one thing. Except for you. You, of course, will also be infinite because this will take an eternity. You will live through thousands of years of global tragedy before you see what you've done. You will see the slow decline of the American dollar and the next great depression. You will witness natural disasters and epidemics and the fall of the capitalist system. You will stand on the sidelines of the third world war and watch as George W. Bush wipes out half of the world's population in one fell swoop with his secret stash of Weapons of Mass Destruction. And while your eyes are glued to the television set, BBC will inform you that the rainforests are all gone and the icebergs have all melted and seventy five percent of the animals on this planet are extinct and monocropping has destroyed every last inch of fertile soil and now whoever's left living is doomed to a fate of starvation and dehydration. I will wait for you while you learn these things. I will wait for you. We will be Alobar and Kudra, conducting what we can only deem in the present to be a completely futile search. We will live until we find the secret essence of the universe, and when we find it, we will be perfect. We will be perfect for one instant, and then everything will be over.