THERE ARE PLENTY OF FiSH IN THE SEA OF CRETE
Imagine being stretched.
Stretched like elastic-waisted track pants worn by a humpback whale. Stretched over time and space and through colours and numbers. Stretched like skin made of cling wrap that never, ever tears.
Then imagine being shaken like you’ve been put into an empty jam jar and thrown about by a naughty toddler who just loves torturing the strange little bugs he has captured. Your brain feels like a milkshake made with every flavour of ice-cream ever. Your mind travels to the four corners of the globe before taking a spin around the galaxy.
Your body flips, then flops, then flaps. Your toes touch your fingers. Sparks fly out of your bum (at least that’s what Drew Bird alleges later) as you ascend high above the earth, far above the galaxy to a place that has no sound. You swear you hear somebody say, ‘The milkshakes are ready,’ but you cannot be completely sure. Then you’re shot back down through the galaxy faster than the fastest cheetah in the universe.
Yes, this is completely and utterly bizarre.
This is time-travel!
