In our every cell, furled at the nucleus, there is a ribbon two yards long and just ten atoms wide. Over a hundred million miles of DNA in every human individual, enough to wrap five million times around our world and make the Midgard serpent blush for shame, make even the Ourobouros worm swallow hard in disbelief. This snake-god, nucleotide, twice-twisted, scaled in adenine and cytosine, in thyamine and in guanine, is a one man show, will be the actors, props and setting, be the apple and the garden both. The player bides his time, awaits his entrance to a drum roll of igniting binaries. This is the only dance in town, this anaconda tango, this slow spiral up through time from witless dirt to paramecium, from blind mechanic organism to awareness. There, below the birthing stars, life sways and improvises. Every poignant gesture drips with slapstick, pathos, an unbearably affecting bravery. To dare this stage, this huge and overwhelminhg venue. Squinting through the stellar footlights, hoping there's an audience, that there's someone there, but dancing anyway. But dancing anyway.
(Lettering by Eddie Campbell)
Alan Moore, SNAKES & LADDERS