This / Lawrence Upton

Voice 1: This...

Voice 2: Tree in a dead smash your interpretation of the early morning.

Voice 3: Good.

Voice 4: Good.

Voice 1: We'd better talk about him.

Voice 5: He is angry.

Voice 1: We believe we are, you know.

Voice 5: As if only is more...

Voice 1: He screams.

Voice 5: No one pays attention.

Voice 1: Part from the background.

Voice 2: He is what I am lights this. The dizzying torque of a ring of a gentleman.

Voice 5: Of treetops.

Voice 1: Of this.

Voice 4: Our individual...

Voice 3: Interest?

Voice 1: From the camera.

Voice 4: Breaks away the sheet of what I want.

Voice 6: News ignores their violence.

Voice 7: Fire on each simultaneously.

Voice 2: A child holding his arm.

Voice 3: She is very good.

Voice 4: Cost factored.

Voice 2: Still life, white mouths, you lying bastard. Our words shit our individual interest.

Voice 6: The police.

Voice 7: Entered the woman.

Voice 6: Bounces towards him.

Voice 7: He sweats.

Voice 2: Why the line of cars automated distaste.

Voice 3: This written world drains in between yellow.

Voice 4: To forage and horde.

Voice 3: Truth somewhere ramified.

Voice 1: See.

Voice 5: Things in the street illustrate the new book.

Voice 3: Into the past.

Voice 4: Have mapped his head.

Voice 3: Where she is all up.

Voice 5: The fading dancer.

Voice 1: Guns.

Voice 2: The sphere gathering speed.

Voice 1: Do not joke.

Voice 5: I've spilled some more.

Voice 6: He did.

Voice 7: He knew.

Voice 6: And then runs.

Voice 4: Away from the tree and bounces towards the circle of dying.

Voice 3: She is very technical.

Voice 1: This way.

Voice 5: They watch.

Voice 4: The rubies.

Voice 2: I am an empty space... Sun below. It remains impossible.

Voice 1: Yellow feet from a light blue world.

Voice 5: Dreaming of many objects.

Voice 4: The men writhing.

Voice 3: Running to angels.

Voice 1: Photographer crawling on tape.

Voice 2: Which hands break.

Voice 5: Out of his head.

Voice 4: Same rhythm as the ground.

Voice 1: Defensive aggression.

Voice 3: Muffled voices.

Voice 5: Complete solutions with triumphant faces.

Voice 3: White widens accelerating.

Voice 4: He rises briefly to cohere.

Voice 2: Its surface of groaning offscreen sun.

Voice 4: In the groin he knew.

Voice 3: Ringed by the neck.

Voice 4: He tells me.

Voice 3: Sure our words.

Voice 5: Shit.

Voice 2: Our words shit our individual interest. The rain hybridising. In an empty space contained in shimmers. The conference room in the past.