Through the crackling and snapping, we grin. All around us the flames roar and leap skywards, great towers of black smoke pouring up into the atmosphere. The sharp scent of gasoline burns in the air - the fuel to the inferno. The night is cold, but we drip with shivering, excited sweat in the heat of the flames as our arms snake around one another. In the centre of the doorway ahead is the ominous accumulation of gas tanks.

    He throws the spent matchbox aside, a grin spread across his features as he gazes at his handiwork. We hear screaming, crying, the high-pitched terrified shrieking of children, adults, teens, ablaze. But still we smile.

    As the flames creep ever closer, so too do the pair of dissidents. Enthralled by the sight before them, they sink to the floor. Clasping their hands together tightly, the couple kiss – delicately touching their lips together – shaking all the while.