You might be familiar with the wet steam room at the Russian and Turkish Baths. The last time I visited (for a Groupon-subsidized birthday) it was especially aromatic, and occupied solely by a man lying on the tiled bench. After a moment, he produced a vial and poured a few drops onto the heater, which instantly filled the room with mentholated white steam. It felt like my nose had become a Camel Crush after the cartridge was crushed. He said it was LSD.

Santal 33 is a similarly potent formula that’s slippery when wet. Except instead of a spicy, minty hallucinogen, the smell is closer to ginger. Pink pickled ginger, in a unisex steam room.

This national park is confusing. For example, the flowering trees never stop. And when they produce fruit, it’s more like gear. And the mountains are heaps of tiny colored bits. I can tell because when I look close at the ground, each stone is actually a tiny plastic eraser. And when I look to the sky, it’s cuter than usual. And when it rains from the cute sky, pez candy sprinkles down, resulting in a tiny bounce off the erasers.

Riding down Milk Road on a motorcycle, you feel free. Life-size tourists with their pet children hang out near the shy fountains. Ten Anonymous Hymns for Guitar begins, and the miracle light reflects off the land juice, blinding you slightly (but in a good way). Year after year drips down your face, and every time you check the time, it’s spring.

The moth is a nomad with a guilty pleasure: light. God’s surveillance style is also light, so you could say the two are friends. A moth, however, doesn’t fly toward the sun. It is too bright and far away. Instead it flies toward a flame with its morph equipment ready and tiny manifesto in hand, flickering on and off, its poignant synergy with the darkness now complete. It could have gone other ways: violent sap, sticky web, deep winter, etc. God makes a tally and eyes the headset of her Oculus Rift waiting on the table nearby.

In anticipation of a nice meal, root vegetable applies musk with a bubble wand. The first course is corn sorbet for a baby served in a plastic scallop shell. The main course is a demonstration of adorable lifehacks which are ultimately of no consequence to your true destiny. Dessert consists of pear and apple cordials poured in an hourglass that has been laterally split in two.

SPF 50 on a sleeping geisha. Just the right amount of cuteness that keeps your mind healthy and clear. Consider yourself a dolphin forever smiling, caught midair in a photograph.