seafaring death pyre somehow appears to be functioning as a sperm-splotched, unmade bed. Explosions detonate on a massive projector screen. They say the instant before one dies lasts for all eternity. Perhaps the same also applies to the instant before one’s heart breaks in two. A ball pit, almost overflowing with rainbow-colored plastic orbs, sunken into the floor: in it sit Duncan Ripple and a young woman, topless.
