#land rover red cross short films

[walkingdistance]

The Piggyback - Dead Engine 7

Which way to the beach?

AN ORANGE DUFFLE-BAG

Tall, thin, blue, the steward hat on, the girl with the orange duffle-bag cuts through terminal beach once a day on her silent duty ride. If you’re in for a coffee she’ll stand by the corner behind a pair of Ralph Lauren. Girl and duffle-bag proceed onto the pedal-boat and onto another island. 

SHINING

The girl cuts the shoreline walking as she proceeds on her timeline thru the still waters. At every step shines. Her wavy hairs follow her quietly.  She spends the day combing them as she leans on one side, then on the other. 

QUICK-CHECK

A short man in blue cuffed shorts walks two kids in, a boy and a girl. The kids leave a stick trail on the sand. The man does a temperature check. They leave in a burst of noise, the boy draws the longest shadow.

TERMINAL BEACH

Playing whats-your-name, hitting the waves every quarter, the strong cool breeze cuts terminal beach. In the late afternoon more people come and bring floaters, helplessly crying girls pulling their mother’s arm and popsicle sand-chair. The sunset with one german family winds up carelessly on the benches. We are back from fish haunting and going thru a selection of meds. She gets up in a cloud of noise from the interconnected trees and walks with her hair in a twist, a sparrow take-off. Voices define locations thru the maze of trees, tents, stands and the shabby buildings. Waiting for a sound to crumble and swim South.

THE PASSING CAR

A blue Land Rover cuts the scene slowly from right to left. The driver’s polling the growth rate and passing on. The pale old lady on the passenger’s seat waves a bony hand out.

THE TEENS MEETING

The teen in black digs left of centerfield, manoeuvring, hanging the heeled shoe, busy on a cigarette and cornering discussions. Tomboy inhales, large forehead under a perfect gasket of blond, rules the tongue pitching and jacks up another beer. The Jesus’ seat is empty. A third girl hits the group several times, filling thru the evening like a satellite. The boy in the green polo closes the rig, chewing on a rice rolls.

A WHITE STRAW

Over the open-ended scale of fun and retreats neighbours are curious to draw and classify. Skip, dance around, cook a scene, swap glasses and spew around. A girl and her juice while he discusses with owner and waitresses of options, trends and plans. Crowds change. Age, hair and colours change, music fades into music as the disco at the other end preps for another round. The girl chews on a white straw.

PASSING BIKE

A Ducati, boy and girl red helmets cut the scene from right to left and fades.

CONNECTED

One out of the three of them cutting the beach at the Cornwall Connect. Fowey monitors the young students that have just invaded the harbour. Jump into the water, form a large circle splashing and spelling the masthead rites. Castle-bund or playing with plastic guns. The 9 year old boy with a baseball cap counts the waves and does not bathe. He fears to be within.

PARAFOIL ENTERTAINMENT

We discuss the menu. Wine, blurbs, pop hearts, cherries and of clouds and kids skipping through the palm trees and thru the sunset. Everybody line up at the parafoil entertainment, blinded, the boat gears up and springs higher. Low-flying helicoptes make the shoreline sending waves to the slow-moving army, inching forward. Crawling on a rocking chair, climbing onto another edition and touching the sand I fall asleep. Everything slowly turns into nothing.

AWAKENING ON A BIKE

Awakening on a bike, getting my shit together and heading for breakfast. Birds are rolling off a tree and onto another sketching circle. We are comfortably drunk already. For the rest of the day I won’t ask what comes next.

PASSING BOYFRIENDS

The boyfriend of Monday and the boyfriend of Tuesday cut the scene from left to right and cheer. The boyfriend of Friday is having Tom&Chips and churns at the corner. The boyfriend of Sunday eyes the kindergarten space and holds a red lollypop in his right hand. Fingers says “hate”. The boyfriend of Wednesday is on a phone conversation with H. H is a girl who writes notes. She hides notes behind and beside boxes.

QUARTET

Two bulky kids, matching swimsuits marching from the showers to the table. A small girl in orange joins them halfway. They are scanning their breakfast. A Grenadine dash, croissants, skimmed milk, a blend of coffee and yogurt. I am at the table and the chair is screeching. The girl and the boys are starring at me and I don’t know them. They offer a pinch of black olives and a slab of bread and start a discussion on films. When they are done they jump on their bikes quietly and run to the gate. The three stop there and turn their heads back to me and wait.  

PASSING BEES

Local bees are 2 inches long and cut the scene over the turfs disappearing in the haze ahead of the buzzing scare. Look.

SHORE-WALKING

I like to walk up and down, slowly, checking for incoming boats and looking for parking, the boys wave at each other under a permanent shadow. If you want to avoid burns don’t stop, laugh, watch over your back. Flying thru the body of passing friends, no relation can ground you. Make reservations for tomorrow, learn to debunk efficiently, don’t let the flashlight distract you. And forget. 

THE PIGGYBACK

He is a tall man, swimming into a big pair of steel toe hiking boots, a bleached tank-top. He gives the little boy a piggyback ride. From an end to the other on the same yard, crossing the playground, the young boy is coughing, teething, his head whoops and boobs. At one end of the piggyback ride the man and the boy are smiling.