That’s how it’s going to end.

First the gentle voice of Bobby Darin singing “Somewhere, beyond the sea; somewhere waiting for me” will cover every other sound in the universe.

Then everything will start becoming past, pixel by pixel. Warm golden fire will drop from the sky. Don’t worry. It’s gonna be ok. Just think of it as something like Rapunzel's hair for the moment.

Typically, we will all gather around this fire to party like there is no tomorrow.

Spoiler alert.

There won’t be any.

“Somewhere beyond the sea; She's there watching for me”.

Breathless from all that dance, one by one we will stand up and share a story. A story of our own or not, good or bad, fun or sad, true or made-up, it doesn’t really matter as long as this is the last story we would ever want to share.

Just before we become past ourselves. Pixel by pixel.

“We'll meet beyond the shore; We'll kiss just as before; Happy we'll be beyond the sea”.

None of us will be aware, however, that the next, slightly updated version of the world will be made out of these stories. And these stories alone. The ones we said around the fire. Breathless from all that dance. True or made-up.

Yet another one of these stories that talk about just another end of the world