Dinosaurs are not all dead. The last
of them slumber on the high street. Their strength gone. Their great bulk
powerless against the oncoming download based ice age. I tiptoe across the
slippery pavement as I pass by, avoiding the digital flurries already in the
air. Don't breathe in - that could be Michael Bubble's latest album floating
wirelessly towards someone's phone in frozen bits and bytes. Ugh, I got some in
my mouth. The taste is bitter and strange.
