The Feast of Saint William

She's dreaming,
and this is where it all begins.

Her eyes are dancing in the dark,
dancing to the beat of the electrical impulses in her brain,
and this is where it all begins.

Random images,
edited, spliced together,
saturated colour -

and this is where it all begins.

She walks through the streets
walks through the city
and onto the heath,
then climbs up to the ridge above the tanglewood.

She turns around,
looks down at the vista beneath her feet -
the cathedral, the castle, the churches
(one for every Sunday of the year)
and in the houses
the lights are going out
one by one by one by one.
Decent people are in their beds
sleeping the sleep of the just
behind their locked doors,
shuttered windows,
closed minds -

and this is where it all begins.

A point of view shot -
she is standing in the middle of the road
and a fish is lying at her feet.
What sort of fish is it?
It's the strangest thing she's ever seen;
it has twelve fins on each side
and each fin is red,
as if dabbed with blood.

How did the fish get there?
How can it live in so dry a spot?

Pick up the fish.

She picks up the fish, and holds it to her bosom.
She cradles it in her arms, rocking it to and fro,
and as she strokes its head
it begins to move and grow
larger and larger at an alarming rate.

It grows so fast, so large and so fast,
that she can no longer hold it
and it slips from her grasp.

But instead of flopping to the ground,
it suddenly grows wings and takes to the air,
and flies away.

It circles above her, circles above the city,
and then

it passes through the clouds,
disappears from view

and this is where it all begins.


The feast-day of Saint William of Norwich is March 26th