So,hypothetical scenario. An alien species comes to earth, but we share no common language. We can only communicate through pictures and sounds. At first, they see our art, hear our music, gaze upon our sacred lands and they’re dazzled by the beauty. But then, as they explore deeper, they see all the stuff we’d prefer to hide; the pain, the cruelty, the pointless wars.
If you were one of the aliens, would you let us live or wipe us out?
Heavy question, I know, but I didn’t always think this way. Life used to be simple. I was a typical city girl with small dreams that were big enough for her. Then I met Dylan O’Dea. He changed how I saw the world, opened my eyes.
For him, the sky was always falling. I guess that was why he achieved so many great things. The constant fear of catastrophe was an excellent motivator. It’s kind of poetic that he came back to me 16 minutes and 59 seconds into Beethoven’s Symphony no. 7.
Dylan showed me the crack in everything. How our world is a contradiction of beauty and ugliness. How we choose to ignore the awful and gloss over it with the palatable. How you need just a tiny drop of something unsavoury to create every great scent.
Pretty deep for a pair of teenagers living in a block of council flats in inner city Dublin, right? Probably. But that wouldn’t always be our lot. We’d part ways, cross oceans and come together again. Dylan would create perfumes adored by women across the globe and I would be the one who first showed him the magic of flowers.
My name is Evelyn Flynn and I’m going to tell you about the cracks.