“Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud…”
“In the beginning, was the word.
And the word was programmed in classic binary.
And the word said: let there be life!
And so, somewhere in the technocore volts of my mothers estate, frozen sperm from my long dead daddy was defrosted, set in suspension, shaken like the vanilla malts of Yur, loaded in to something part squirt gun part dildo, and at the magic touch of a trigger, ejaculated into mother in a time when the moon was full and the egg was ripe.
(…)”