Without looking up, the girl cautiously takes the boy's hand. She steers herself then meets his gaze. The boy smiles. The girl surrenders. They kiss.
We pull away to reveal more lovers. In a long winter coat, a woman straddles a man on a wooden bench. Behind a coin-operated lavatory, two boys passionately embrace. Vague silhouettes sigh behind the steamed windows of a parked car. Two figures fumble in a phone box. There's a couple in every doorway and around every corner.
Snow begins to fall. We drift up into the sky and look down on the boy and the girl as they become tiny specks in a London street. We pull away further and further until London's gone, England's gone, Europe's gone. Now we're in space, watching the Earth as the sun rises behind it. Satellites orbit by. A billion stars surround us. We flow over the moon. Then we cut to black, and the credits roll.
I want you now, and now is all we can know.
Imagine we wake up tomorrow and nothing's happened. Think of what we'll never know. One night of love in a month full of doubt. Take my hand. Take my tongue. Let's run. Tonight can be a detour, a respite. I'm your busman's holiday, your much-deserved night off. I'm your sensual sojourn. My heart could be a stone, my heart could be a sponge. This is the end. Ten years in the making, a decade of design. This kiss is Hello. This kiss is Goodbye.