The camera man is showing me a monochrome scene on his cctv monitor, in an unidentified room:
(It is night, false hollow light —the whites burn with over saturation—a full moon )
There’s only half a basketball court, crowded with followers in dark clothes, all in profile— the blacks are deep and solid—
An unknown cult? Neighbourhood watch? Citizens together for celebrations?
They are praising, perhaps cheering before an unseen stage (just out of frame) No other voices can be heard — no discernible words —just a jumble of human noise from male and female, no children.
There is certainty with this. No children on site.
The concrete floor is wet. Either rain, or spilled drinking water, or most likely, amniotic fluid.
There are pregnant women present, four or five of them, unmoving figures sitting upright and scattered among the crowd) They appear elevated on chairs carried by men, liquid dripping, two heads higher than the others (who are standing)
The pregnant women are wearing white maternity dresses but the designs on them are different
floral, shapes, batik, minimalism
The common denominator are embryos, suspended in bellies, listening. This is important.
Four or five of them in one space, connected by an unseen cord, as if the sum was greater than the all.
I don’t feel they are going to be sacrificed. Maybe worshipped. They do not speak and no sound comes from them.
(I believe them to be receiving the sounds of the crowd)
(The unborn, listening, their mothers, receptacles)
The scene ends there.