The sun is teasing the sky goodnight, in our picture of a coastal wall, in a cloudy winter’s dusk.

Concrete buildings stain easily, and quickly, in our damp climate, enhancing our towns’ bleak tones. The acidic English rain causes permanent piss stains, which scar the buildings’ facades, and are accompanied by sprawling archipelagos of yellow lichen and brown moss.

In the salt water air of our coastal scene, the concrete sea wall is so stained, and it snakes away in twenty yard segments back into the picture to touch the horizon. To the left of the picture is the land, rolling hills and neat golf courses, a little seaside cafe and cozy little houses. Above the lights of the houses, stars are twinkling. To the right of the picture is the still sea, its color a rich, uniform, navy flint, preternaturally calm under the nascent menace of the fading sky.

The picture cuts to a map, showing Asia and continental Europe, with a solid curving white line dividing East from West. To the right of the picture, the East is coloured the same blue as the sea, the West the same grass green as the land. From a distant bird’s eye view the picture rapidly zooms in to eye level, confirming the white line as our sea wall.

The picture cuts to a long shot as before. Now, a young woman is there. She is slim, and pretty, and she is standing upright on the sea wall in a black swimsuit, facing right. Facing the sea. And you are standing behind her, dressed for winter in furs, viewing her with something approximating a studied, maternal pride. A half-second extreme close-up shows the lower half of your face, stark, in a knowing smirk.

The picture cuts to a close-up of her feet being pricked by the chipped gravel protruding from the edge of the wall. The sound of a gust of breeze.

The camera zooms out steadily to a full shot. Her knees buckle subtly in a stifled shiver before the jump. A gull swoops in from the right of the picture, and squawks.

She dives off the edge. Instead of plunging through, she bounces brutally off the surface, as the sea is revealed to be a solid, inelastic mass. Her momentum is carrying her rolling forward, and apparently, momentarily, accelerating her, the surface buffeting her, skimming like a stone, until she comes to a final, fracturing halt.

A half-second extreme close-up of your mouth formed into a comically exaggerated gasp. A shot from above then shows her broken, twisted, bloodless body lying face down on the sea’s surface.

A white line is magically drawn around her, in the same thickness as the white line on the map that had been shown earlier. When the outline is complete, the rest of the picture fades to black, leaving only the white outline, like a spastic swastika, on a pure black background. Inside the outline the identically similar form of the bottle fades in. Underneath this image, the logo for the fragrance fades in, in white: Accomplice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by avrenem_acceber on Flickr