What I want to do now is give you another sort of preview, to pull the curtain back a bit, and give you bits and pieces of rehearsal photos, of texts that were written, things that went into making the dance that will premiere next week, but aren't in their polished form.
Please note, just because they are not yet polished does not mean that they are not ours. Do not use our images or words without our express permission. Thank you.
'How very bookish of you. And not at all to my taste. Until the reversing of the tides."
"Even longer. Do you know nothing of negotiations?"
"I negotiate because it amuses me to do so. I need not."
"Some casseroles will be wrapped in foil, as if they are being protected from aliens, or voices which speak on strange frequencies. Some will be wrapped in plastic, the kind that sticks to nothing but itself.
You will say thank you, thank you, thank you.
You will eat none of them. Grief tastes bitter and thick, even when baked into layers."
"In hourglasses and cuckoo clocks and the guttered wax of candles, time is kept. In the race of the hummingbird’s heart and the heat death of the sun, a lifetime is held.
All of the times of the world are here: beginnings and endings and beginnings again. The what next. The and so. Pages turned. Lights dimmed. Curtains closed.
There is a room full of clocks and it holds within it all time."
Even yours."
By Kat Howard
