The church is shrouded in darkness.Shadows chase up the pillars, like passing trees, and it suddenly seems as if there might an imperative here. It accelerates, chasing after itself, until it is utterly still. And then it is only about maintaining, keeping everything as it is. Or getting it higher, harder, dreaming that it really could be something more, furious in its fading.Until it’s perverse and sad, a carnival and nothing more.And we watch it slip and fall. As an idiot records every moment.