Agents of entropy, black holes are real and they are all around you
You say cheese and the camera steals your soul. What a smile! How many pictures of you are out there, capturing that magical moment when you pretended to be happy on command? What a smile. Such a warm memory. Relive it, exactly as it happened, alongside 999 photographs – all of them magical – from the same evening.
With a swipe of the finger, you’ll rip through a hundred without blinking as the night cascades up and down a smartphone. And wherever it stops, you’ll think to yourself, “Damn, what a smile.”
The lensing maw rearranges the lines of your face into a glowing stream of atoms, the light of which is suspended for eternity on the boundary of an event horizon. An illusory glow, the core of each galaxy swallows light but leaves the casings for astronomers to peer out in wonder.
“What a smile,” the photographer dispassionately exclaims as he folds spacetime, hilariously, first into a donut and then into a convex wireframe bowing and twisting under the weight of your perception. Like it knows its being watched. God is shy, but God damn, what a smile.
The donut folds over like a wolf in combat and collapses into your eyes, grinning on its way down, watching you from the corner of her eye. Eager and thirsty, spacetime rips itself apart to give you a taste of the river of light. But you can’t describe it to anyone. You can’t talk about it, because no word in the vocabulary can approach it without destroying some aspect of its inherent Truth. All the others can do is look at the stupid smirk on your otherwise stoic cat face, and laugh in your direction, and haphazardly declare – not without authentic surprise – “What a smile!”