Dark Matter

I'm walking up Jetty Road in Brighton on Sunday afternoon. I'm just about to turn a corner, on to The Crescent. I'm thinking about dark matter.

Not a dark matter, but dark matter itself. What is it? I've been reading a book called Thirteen Things That Don't Make Sense. The first Thing is dark matter. There must be dark matter because of the rotational speeds of galaxies. The outer stars of galaxies rotate at the same speed as the inner ones, but they should rotate slower, according to the law of gravity. Unless dark matter permeates the galaxies.

Here on Jetty Road I'm just about to turn a corner. I'm with my mum, and Nostradamus is a little way ahead. It's half past four and very cold and we are heading home for a cup of tea. We are, temporarily, not talking. The void fills with dark matter. Suddenly I'm aware of what it is. I look down at the pavement. There it is in the cracks, black and peanutty. I look up. The sky is unusually high, and the clouds are expanding. I turn the corner. There is a church on my left. It is set further back than normal. A man comes out to have a look. He is dark grey and stout.

The colour of the sky is strange for the hour. It is the same colour as the air. The colour is water or steel with a trace of pink. We are now past the church. The houses have immensely high walls, with no windows. The trees on The Crescent stretch upwards and the gardens are planted with great spaces between the aloes and the palms.

It's everywhere.