There was a chemical in their spray paint that inhibited aging, actually made them live forever -- The horizon was stone with neon filigree, a black park, a row of windows
Rhyth sprayed memories out of a paintcan -- Bright films lay on the wall and a world looked through -- Somewhere in yourself there is a breath that breathes out without breathing in -- A magic wind... funnels moons and comets into a rainbow over breasts -- It begins to rain precious stones over the small of Rhyth's back -- A mind in the star generates the street where Gum slid into him, bumped into him, her breasts thrust outwards, the skin of her face taut, her lips full -- She smells, she has a peculiar smell -- This perfume emanates from the uninhaled exhalation where your heart really is
"Where is the heart?" Corn asks.
He wants an argument...
Beat is silent -- It's not unusual to find a curiosity bordering on de omnibus dubitandum in children too old to trust anyone and too young, again, to trust anyone -- Gum a chain of aromatic hydrocarbons -- Rainbows the refracted sunlight of spherical precipitation -- Fact is another word for nihilism
"All knowledge is this close," Beat holds up his thumb and forefinger as if he's about to pinch something, "to becoming nonsense. Find what stops this from happening and that's where the heart is."
Corn shrugs.
Uninhaled exhalation -- He runs his fingers over dreamwalls, feels them ripple, draws them back dripping -- Shapes in the water billow into other shapes -- Ariadne in the bed, in the forty-eighth band -- A grey string ravelled loose from Gum's dress and in it's stoniness it shone solitarily real among water-pictures and luminous faces -- He walks through ankle-deep water splashing across his feet in which glowing fish swim with golden coins, through an avalanche of woolen blankets pouring out of a closet -- It turns out that the thread was never from her dress -- He didn't see the veil -- Reaching her he pulls and pulls and watches the thread tear loose form the bottom, but the veil never seems to disappear -- Thread piles at his feet, his pulling has become frantic -- They began to drift back, through the endless floods and the surface of the moon
Cube is walking through a curtain of rain, her face slick and her hair shining, damp all over her black haltertop, her jeans speckled with dark drops -- A smell rises from the asphalt, rain streaks the bricks grey, the sky looks as if someone has scrubbed it with a steel brush, the windows are fogged
"This reminds me of the sewers. Always you had this sound. I'm only comfortable when it's raining."
Rain whispers -- Floorboards creak, the door opens
She doesn't like silence -- Wandering through the calliope spiral lights that grow from the street like thorns, the pink glare of a sky, the shadows of the Apostles -- Silence is the only thing you can market
"For you that's what silence is. And silence becomes noise."
"Silence is whatever is natural?"
"That can't be true..."
A panic settles on him like a cat, slow and languid and warm -- Which one of these streets leads to the arch under the rainbow -- Uninhaled exhalation where the calliope spiral lights blow out of him like a whirlwind -- The ice cream doesn't melt -- A chemical in the spray paint allowed them to live forever -- A chemical...
"Where is this all going? What will we do? What's going to be there?" Beat asks.
Corn Rhyth Combo Jazz Cube none of them can answer -- Sit under awnings, silent eyes -- Beat turned around -- Everyone in autumn leaves, their expressions inscrutable
We laugh depart from it and return -- Danced up the stairs and billboards -- When you gasped the reminiscence of a noise from some distance -- Another light slowly brightened on her shadow -- The plaza, Beat and Gum in the shadow of Benten-cho, a colour in the sky -- The cityscape -- The red light of legs pink -- Having tagged looked up at the moon -- It looks like only a moon is always denuded by how badly I want
"What's being young. And that is be," says Gum.
Sparkling drips, down her eyelids -- Flutterheart honeytongue sugar skyblush -- Autumn sparkles up into the sky, clouds surround, starlings whirl into eyes
Destroy the identical white shirts -- Graffiti is art -- People going to work their heads -- Dangling marionette -- Filth, teeth reeking with gold, skin slippery -- Father and morning paper -- Give all of the children televisions -- Storming heaven, footsteps in Red Square
HM and MB outside the circle -- No and Yes outside the circle -- Beat wants to know if the circle is Yes or No -- Corn Rhyth Combo Jazz Cube Pirahna Clutch Gum Soda Yo-yo -- Beat -- The music grew in it something familiar and the very form of it was the sense of seeing a way forward -- The minute the sky becomes electric
He can no longer speak. The Noise Tanks skate circles around him. He is no longer interesting.
