Kate Moon had a problem.
(Whimsical girl, in basic, two layered dress, with LOTS of straight, scruffy red/brown hair.)
”You’re all mad,” she thought. “Mad!”
(We see her from behind, standing in front of a frazzled, bustled, phone-shouting, peak hour crowd.)
“You’re all bored…”
(Walking past kids at bus stop.)
”need to be entertained…”
(Four or five skate dude kids lolling on edge of skate half-pipe.)
“Don’t you realise, just the way you sit there is cool, as if your were carved.”
”That, if you walk in any direction,”
(Kate walking on, garbage truck in front of he Men at back, working.)
”you’ll find music.”
(Speaker welded above top corner of garbage truck scoop. Worker sitting exhausted on back tray, leaning on side of scoop, listening to music.)
”If you look close, anywhere, you’ll find beauty.”
(A boy putting arms up in defence as he his ear is being licked by his old, three-legged dog,
(ladybugs talking off.)
(Ants fighting a wounded huntsman spider.)
“There will be patterns.”
(Kate walking past pattern of flowers in a hedge.)
(Kate standing under fig tree, in cluster of fig trees, looking at its outward spiralling roots, and the same of the other fig trees, forming an amazing pattern on the ground.)
(Bird feeding its young.)
(Mother running while nursing crying child.)
”There will be a fight to survive.”
(Beautiful tree in forest, being strangled, pulled down, by fat vines.)
Oh, oh, Kate Moon, she knew. There are people who’s lives are ships.
(Old, colourful lady with red bandanna and three totally different dogs, animated, smiling, as she tells Kate a story.)
Pirate ships full of stories!
When she closed her eyes and inhaled, there was blackwood,
(Eyes closed, warm smile, hand running along dark wood window frame. Face is close to frame.)
(Kate as seen from behind, pushing through scrub in front of GIANT rainforest manna gum.)
every food ever tasted in the world.
(Kate, stationary on street, in front of small front yard, with concrete balcony, housing an Italian family eating pasta. Tomatoes on the vine, chunky, red sauce being ladled out of pot. Wine, the works. The balcony presents a framed picture of old school Italy, with Western hipsters on footpath out front, walking by)
She just had to breath in seaweed,
to know what the seal knows.
(Kate, lying in still sea water, arms wide, eyes closed, as a mermaid and merman loll a safe distance around her.)
”You’re all fools,” she whispered. “Indoors.”
(Kate walking through elm promenade, streaks of white light coming through dark shade of trees.)
“Missing the play of light…”
(Two boys one kicking leaves at the other, who is lunging at him through leaves, there is a football behind them, all with said streaks of light and shade. It is obvious from their serious expressions this is no game.)
”The way, once a day, something huge and dead and full of mystery whispers;”
(Moon rising, creating right-angled shadows)
”Now is my time… Watch me rise…
Watch me shine!”
(Moon, above cat, leaping, full stretch, through air, at mouse.)
And, when the day was so hot Kate Moon couldn’t move, there was always, somewhere, the prehistoric craw of a crow
(Kate walking through heat vapours, two crows flying/landing behind her.)
making everything even more slow.
She would wonder: “How can a bird belittle time?”
(Kate, in heat vapours, staring at crow on fence, that is staring at her.)
Every summer, when the cool change came, Kate Moon would wonder;
”Can’t they feel moods shift?
(Kate in middle of small, old street, no trees, watching kids run from house into footpath, while above, a monster storm brews. Back half of street already in shadow/early rain.)
”Don’t they watch storms rise?”
(Kate, eyes closed, facing up, into falling rain. Light in background is shifting to dark.)
Sometimes Kate Moon imagined herself up there.
(Kate, arms wide, hair everywhere, small in middle of light and dark billowing clouds.)
And sometimes, she didn’t have to imagine at all.
(Kate smiling, hugging her mum in the rain.)