Entrance
Admission is free to all except children, who must pay with their black lungs. You must not touch the machinery for you risk a serious injury. Clowns are dressed in business suits; they get a commission for every laugh. Don't mind the fans, they are here to protect you. From what? Don't ask.
Ignorance Booth
Your breath is fragrant with a minty dust. See the particles illuminated by fungi, viruses, and bacteria, too small to be seen with a naked eye. Each of them rolls through a kaleidoscopic slideshow, monster-sized symbionts dispersing in an invisible creepshow. Yes, even you breathe them in, you who thought the air wasn't alive.
Wind Booth
Feel the wind on your face, that ancient air conditioner. You see jugglers gyrating a refrigerant as it compresses, sending cool relief through your nose. You are the wind and the wind is your body, sailing you aloft on imperceptible fluid that heals. The wind says, open your mouth for me, and I will make you see wonders.
Fish Booth
A fish doesn't get thirsty because it doesn't need air. Their bubbles are what rise from the ocean to catch the wind. As the wind erodes canyons, so does it parch the flesh, rendering us ocean-dry, gasping for air.
Poetry Booth
The calligrapher dances on salty sheets, painting the letters of a forgotten language, words that will speak to you only in death. It says that poetry is all you can breathe.
Anatomy Booth
Inside our bodies there is an atlas of open space where the air penetrates, deep pockets of fractalized labyrinthia that dark matter suspended. These are the roads where oxygen travels to ignite spirit, compounding energy into a stronger substance- that which cannot be extinguished by flames. It breathes life into you, this powerful elixir. You want to believe it will never run out, that resources will always be natural.
Air Tax Rollercoaster
We'll erase your debt if you let us buy your air. We come in peace, with a gun on our shoulder. You have no choice really. Once you're on the roller coaster there's no turning back. So ship all your air to us. Take your last breath at the top before plunging into the abyss of smog.
The Magic Show
Intimate chemicals that see all, touch all, exchange with all, in Brownian motion they swivel as basketballs. They're everywhere and nowhere, breaching every opening, no matter how small. They reach every space of the court, all the matter wedged between its sidelines. They embrace you, the divine ether passing rays of information through your bones, transformative passes and jump shots emanating from the wand-shaped arms. Stars in every diamond of the net that brands your lungs.
Encore
Birds of all sizes and colors swoon the audience, dropping balloons from their talons that bounce about, their beaks popping each one in a frenzy of cacophony. Only when the silence comes can the music be heard, voices of nature that drift along on the currents, rising and falling like the journey of a score. The curtain closes on a galaxy of notes that levitate in the sky.
