Here’s to Manhattan – ever-piling human nest of steel, chewing gum, brick, hair, piping and discarded q-tips. Here’s to the Maldives. I wish I had visited you. Here’s to non-sentient life, squirming and blind. Here’s to heaven, where we are right now, and also to hell, the realest place you may have ever been. Here’s to oil-free pelicans and short memories. Here’s to unwashed people. Salud. Here’s to repetition, the defining action of our lives – to breathing and pumping, to clipping, trimming, brushing, picking, washing, hugging, kissing and clicking. Here’s to avoiding the brittleness of preservation mode. Here’s to alien mitochondria, all ten dimensions and massive Guatemalan sinkholes. Here’s to a timely purchase of Sandwich Set A at Narita International Airport. Here’s to the miracle of airplanes in air.

Here’s to the self-delusion of self-sufficiency in the here and now. Here’s to New Zealand. I finally forgive you. Here’s to whittling, masturbation and skyscrapers – to placid ponds, defensive stabbings and performance art. Here’s to reptilians unloved.

But mostly, Creature, here’s to you.



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