The cranial appendage of the Basilica toppled, revealing steel beams. When I set to step back, I realized I was standing in gum. Old-school Bazooka — vulcanized starch dyed pink, dusted with powdered sugar, and not as often found where I lived as here.
I used to care about stepping in gum, but light was pouring from every seam in the universe, and for an instant I could see the germs festering in the hot pink gooey stretch of sweet spit communing with me in the cosmos. We were trapped in a prism, a prism of light — just a reflection of a reflection of a reflection of a reflection of a reflection.