A loud bang in the dead of night; a block, with its many eyes closed save for one, burning. Fueled by memories of hate and love and dreams.

Years have passed. Particles dissembled and reassembled, and that mind, banished willingly from its flesh, found a new route back to this reality. And there he stood again, surrounded by garbage.

'How easy it was when it only took a torched flat to get rid of all the waste. Now it feels like it's too much, like the weight of it all has dented the world. Or just my soul. Who's to tell them apart,' he asked the air.

He looked around him and all he could see was piles of garbage, tossed aside, collected, and then removed here to rot in its morbid colourfulness. As his glance swept across his surroundings, he stopped for a moment to stare at all the food, at that negative of any supermarket to find. Nourishment, half-used, thrown away, growing new little worlds among themselves. Their smell vile though, all he could think about was the words of the big brother, how others of the same species would kill for those leftover family deal-meals. You know, to survive.

The only things that are capable of survival from a human's point of view are the havens of nature. Their trick being regeneration and reappearance completed faster than anybody could notice. Or care to notice.

'Just like that river on the other side, ' he pointed out. The air agreed in silence, being blessed with the ability of total and utter uninterest.

'Just like you.'

The river, sharing the gift of air's lineage, trickled on without a single care for the smelly demise that laid a few feet away its wet banks.

'The river is shallow on most parts, but should you step into it, the cold would numb your toes and the stones would cut your skin wide open. Leeches, they would feast on your life.'

'And should you ever just stroll along the banks, any rock you'd turn around unraveled slimy beasts of living things, creatures so horribly disgusting, you'd want to throw them into the water,' he explained, wandering about slowly among the garbage.

He was looking down, but stumbled still, not really seeing what he stepped on.

'And you know what,' he asked. 'I think Jeff was in love with you.' He just stood there, barely controlling the glee glowing on his face, as if waiting for the air to engage.

'But (or because?) you don't really care about music, do ya?'