on a journey i discover i have a magic power: i can make objects larger or smaller with my index finger though i don’t know which way they will go until i touch them. i make a goose go very small and turn a scrawny boy into a body builder. there is a familiar sense of apocalypse and danger, the need to escape. i tiptoe into a darkened wooden lecture theatre, a man is delivering an incomprehensible talk on physics, the others are here and we leave through a ritual circle into a magic house, sparkling with chandeliers in huge rooms. we land in a new world, a small island, it looks perfect, although a little flooded. american streets in rows, suburban large houses. young people approach, they are beautiful coming towards us wading through the water, automata-esque, silent, all alike. fear. they surround me; curious but impassive. we begin to leave this street, heading for a checkpoint, a tunnel and an old car. you and i have sex on a table at the checkpoint and you tell me you think of children when you screw me and i am surprised because at this moment that is what i too am thinking. no one is remotely interested in our lovemaking, the new ones have lost the urge for sex, they do not reproduce in the same way anymore.