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.
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