I feel the sun warming my body. I can see it’s light dappling on my outside fabric. The air smells fresh. This is not the studio. And yet I sense that I am still working. Someone shouts “Hold it”, and I know that I am on a shoot. The girl is walking down a street. I can now see the pavement passing under her dress. Let me come undone and quietly slip off, and fall silently to the ground as she unknowingly walks on. Let me be forgotten. Let my end be here.
“Does heaven wait, all heanly, over the next horizon”
Prefab Sprout
I lie open under a clear blue sky. Looking this way I can see the trees gently swaying in the breeze. But looking that way, my veiw is blocked by some sort of metal wall. There comes an awful smell from beneath. Gradually it dawns on me that I’m in a trash can. And, just as I’m trying to fathom the meaning in all of this, a dirty hand reaches down and pulls me out. There is an overwhelming smell of shit and alchohol. The ugly face of a homeless tramp is suddenly thrust into my body. I can feel his stubble. And then his tongue. Peering down, I see him jerking himself off. And so I die for the sins of Christ.
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