Different eyeballs of different hues, each with their different lenses contracting to focus point at a figure who is hunched and slow. The jacket she wears is too big and smells of fags and deep fat fryers; the chippie of a Friday night and twenty thousand Royals. The figure moves slowly tentatively, perhaps painfully, holding something close to her sheltering it in the stiff structure of her coat. Light refracts into the different eyes, lenses, triggered by electrical pulses snap into focus the vision of the huddled figure retreating as it disappears from view.
A camera flicks onto green, and slowly rotates on it’s electrical axis as she walks past. Another engages and then another, careful not to lose sight of her. She’s faster now more determined as if suddenly someone has shown her the way. The camera follows like relays flicking from one screen to the next: face on she passes below, in profile she hurries by, down the steps one-two, one-two and then she jumps the final four. Then she’s running. The cameras are trying to get a long shot in so they can zoom in on her face, but it’s streaked with hair and she’s still holding something with one arm but the other is swinging in steady momentum as she pelts past – a retreating shadow. The cameras are working overtime unseen hands are scrabbling with note and remotes to make sure that all areas are covered.
She comes into view pounding down the corridor head bobbing and suddenly she’s gone. Swift change to a different angle on another wall she’s not there. To another and another and there is a figure sprawling out on the floor her legs entangled, one arm outstretched as she hurtles down onto her stomach and slides until she comes to a crumpled stop.
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