A film script study

Scene 1.



At the banquet salon of a cruise ship, dozens of party people dine and celebrate.

The food is incredibly luxurious, rivers of champagne.

The livery waiters serve the party people, with large trays and dishes, bringing abundant and highly ornated food. The party people are dressed in lavish suits and dresses, they receive the dishes and trays with great boisterousness, laughing and talking very loud.

At the table on one side, with two well dressed and good looking, amused young men, is a woman in her fifties, MADAME EDWIGE NILSSON, whose frown contrasts with the party ambience, her dish is empty and she's waiting to be served.

The vague dialogue of the young lads by her sides, is muffled by the loud talk and the party music, but we understand she has already refused a few dishes that were brought to her.

The waiter, another good looking young man, places in front of Madame Edwige a big Thermidor lobster. Madame looks at the lobster with despise, gives a scornful stare at the waiter, and demands a filet mignon, with no manners to her high position, like a dictator.

The waiter almost can't hide his perplexity facing the petulant Madame, and obeys while the lads by her sides laugh very loud.

The Madame gets up from the table, charmingly excuses herself to the lads, and leaves the banquet room.


Madame Edwige walks through the corridor of the ship that leads to her cabin, the corridor is empty. She makes sure there's no one around and the other cabins are shut. Opens the door to her cabin, goes in, and soon goes out again in a moment, dragging through the floor, a human life sized bundle, a human being tied up and wrapped in a bedsheet, who moves a bit and emits low moans, likely gagged inside the bundle.

Madame Edwige drags the bundle behind her, worse than a potato bag, drags it over the stairs that take to the ship's deck. Arriving up there, looks around, and the deck is empty of people. Drags the bundle to the deck's edge, lifts it up with some difficulty, and hurls it into the cold waves of the sea.

Without even looking back at the waters, turns her back and returns to the banquet salon.




The beach is cold and deserted, only the wind shakes the reeds here and there.

A troop of 4 military men, in heavy duty black uniforms, helmets with lanterns and heavy precision machine guns at their backs, patrols the beach, walking from side to side.

They are under the glance of a man, in his mid 50's, also a military, the Captain.

The wind caresses his silver hair, the beam from the lighthouse, each time it spins, alights his face, we see his clear eyes, the hand holding a rosary, his lips slowly murmur a prayer, the US Special Forces insignia 'De Opresso Liber' – 'To free the oppressed' at the left of his jacket collar.

He looks towards the waves, that break upon the coast. He seems to be waiting.


The sea waves are cold, icy.

A decomposed wood log floats at the surface, atop the waves, being thrown forwards, towards the coast. On the log are grasped two hands, the hands belong to two arms, and the arms belong to YRMENSULE WEHR, a girl of 13, the daughter of Madame Edwige, who she hurled into the cold sea.

The log rolls in the waves and Yrmensule's feet can reach the bottom sand now, lets the log go, with all her strenght gains balance and gets up in the sand, with water to her chest, and looks ahead, towards the beach, where the 4 weaponized soldiers walk from side to side and the Captain keeps watch in the shadows.

Yrmensule swims with cold and difficulty in the icy water, the waves push her towards the sand. She hasn't been seen yet by the troop. A last wave covers her body, she falls down on the sand, and gets up, coughing a lot, spitting salt water.

Her cough alerts the troop, the Captain looks ahead, doesn't move.

The soldiers turn to where the sound came, and all point their machine guns to Yrmensule.

Without awaiting the Captain's orders, they look to eachother, and each walks, slowly, weapons aimed forwards, towards where Yrmensule is in the sand, on her knees, the tears became invisible under so much salt water.

The four soldiers stop in a half circle facing the girl, weapons aimed at her, the helmet lanterns hurt her eyes and she raises her arms, without being told to, but to cover her face and avoid the light hurting her eyes. She's shaking with cold.

From the shadows, the Captain observes.

The four soldiers keep their weapons aimed at the girl.

The Captain gets up from the shadows and walks through the sand in great steps, stops in the middle of the soldiers, looks from above. Makes an arms gesture to the soldiers to step back.


She's just a child. Leave her with me.

The soldiers step back, weapons still aimed. The Captain looks back, and makes a gesture for them to put the weapons down, to which they obey.

Yrmensule removes her hands from her eyes, keeps her arms slightly up.

The Captain gets down, his boots sunken in the wet sand, his head at the level of knelt Yrmensule's.

They stare into eachother for a long quiet moment, behind her, the wild roar of the cold sea.

Her face shows despair, a broken heart, fear, terror.

During that long moment, the Captain only looks to her calm, with understanding and trustful expression.


Were you cast away?

Yrmensule nods affirmatively with her head and sad eyes.


Where is your mother?

Yrmensule waves to the sides, 'no', with her head, looks to the sea at her back, covers her face with both hands, hides a face of agony.

The Captain looks to the soldiers, dismisses them.

Takes off his heavy uniform jacket, places it carefully atop the girl's shoulders, who wraps herself in the jacket still warm from his body, sighs in relief, looks to the Captain with gratitude in her face.


I'm your mother now.

The Captain raises Yrmensule up in his arms, very lovingly. She grabs to him. He takes her in arms through the beach, till they become unseen, into the shadows.


In came the night where You, my Lord,

Were nailed to the grievous cross,

Atop the hill of the laughing skull.

From above You saw me, climbing uphill towards You,

Amidst the dead.

How my feet broke and my legs weakened to Your feet, my Lord,

When I saw You from below the cross,

And You looking down the cross to me,

Me, desolate Crucifuge,

Before Thine suffering my heart breaks and grieves.

It was a long night, my Lord, longer than long, longest of nights,

Blackest of nights my Lord, when all thought You dead.

But not me.

It took me long to reach the hill, walking all the way, from Jericho.

Long I crossed through the roads in the night,

That endless night, to get to You.

Long I took to climb uphill, tired already, exhausted,

But my will to save You overrode the weakness of my body,

Relentless, my Lord, to save You;

Long I gathered my bones to Your feet, my Lord, and my tears for You,

Thousand oceans wouldn't be as fathomless.

Long I took to throw my body on that wood and climb upwards,

Grasped to Your wounded body, my Lord, holding to You,

My sacred,

Sacred, most sacred.

Long it took me, and with how many tears,

To take the nails off each Your hands.

Long it took me, to balance Your wounded body,

My lamb so mistreated,

Upon my own, and hold You while, long it took me,

To tear the last nail from Your feet.

Long it took me to depose You off the cross,

Hold You to my back secure,

And start running downhill, taking You with me along the way.

Long it took me to walk, slow paced, all the way downhill,

and through the roads to Jericho, my Lord, to my home,

Where I rescued You.

Only then, my Lord,

Only then, longest, blackest night seem to receed,

And Light was with us.

Only then, my Lord,

Once I washed the blood from Thine brow, and cleared thine face;

Once I cleansed Thine hair, and washed Thine body carefully,

Tended to Thine wounds, in tears,

How could they make you suffer so much?

Once Your body was laid, by my hands warm and tender,

To the soft bed I prepared You,

Once Thine eyes were grateful and relieved upon me, my Lord,

Then I knew Your, and my Love, were true, and pure, and ever living.

No night was that long.

No night was that dark.

No night was that deep, terrible, hurtful.

As the night, my Lord, I climbed to the cross to rescue You;

And past it came the radiant dawn,

The unnamable Sun, you had found within me, my Lord,

That you are my brother, and me your sister,

And we didn't even knew.

And how long ago does that seems to be,

And how fathomless is the fire.

alchemical meditations and perspectives on the mountain of broken hands

before sunrise, atop the gorge, the dam opened and the river flooded immensely, running through the low margins in strong streams taking everything ahead in its way. 
the morning sun lightly touched my dead body, still warm, about to harden. the water was coming fast and carried my body in the flow.
I was dead countless times near this river, in the margins. I was carried through the waters, I know what awaits me, and joyfully my dead body gets carried by the mighty river, cold and hard now, day after day, in slow the river courses, the water streams lick my body from its skin, flesh, muscles, some point, at the great curve of the river, I'm a unified gathering of polished bones.
ahead is a great mountain, blacker than blackest black, that nothing can split in half.
and I'm dead in the water and my flesh is all gone and my bones glow and sing loud in glory of what I brought from life and my skull grins and laughs and my bones swim powerfully in the stream, that with the rapids of the curve became faster, and it's me who throws her skeleton ahead, instead of taking left or right on the Y diversion of the river in face of the mountain, I hurl my bones into the unbreakable mountain.
until now.
the mountain is called mountain of the broken hands, as my bones touch the mountain it immediately splits in half as cut in the middle by an invisible giant blade. it crombles to the sides and disappears gradually, washed away by the river.
with the crombling of the debris, my skeleton gets smashed and gashed, scattered in fragments in a long plain of shallow water where tall legged birds abound in flocks. one of them, with his beak, slow and patient gathers the fragments of my bones to the sandy shore, one by reunified skeleton rests in the sand, accompanied by this beautiful bird, bathed in the sunlight by day, exposed to the elements.
I can wait for the return of my flesh as long as this soul and mine are always present.



I'm inside a space, a large room, the walls are solid stone, all is stone around.
It's shadowy inside, silent, and I'm alone, and it echoes.
I'm dressed in solid black, severe, androgyne and neutral,
My head is the clearest crystal stone from which the Graal was scvlpted.
In front of me, there's a very, very, large, block of stone,
Which occupies the end part of the large room,
I can't describe it, besides having inscriptions.
I take notes of them, it's a code, and I decode it.
I walk around, think, rethink, think some more, look to the stone,
Take a few more circles around the room,
Think, rethink, then go sit by the stone, my back to it.
I start remembering I've spent not one day or month, but decades before, in this room,
And I was trying to encase my skull within that stone perfectly and couldn't.
I'm there, sitting by it, looking to the paper in my hand with my notes,
The code of the inscription on the stone decodes to [ S I G I L L A T E D ]
I didn't encased my skull in the stone,
I'm there, and where I really am there, is, I'm inside the stone, 
All of me is inside the stone,

My marrow pulses inside the stone,
My bones sing inside the stone,
My nerves cry of relief inside the stone,
My flesh pulses inside the stone,
My heart beats inside the stone,
My blood runs inside the stone,
My thought radiates inside the stone,
My soul is alive inside the stone.
I'm encased in absolute perfection within that stone.

In this large room of stone walls, lit on one side by the great window,
To the opposite side there's the immense block of stone,
With the coded inscription.
I placed a ladder aside and made my bed upon the stone,
Lay a mantle of white dotted rabbit furs atop,
Lay myself on it, face down, to sleep.
In the shadows, the moonlight bathes the room,
Solar light approaches the block of stone
Where I lay asleep, androgyne.
In the shadows, he muses,
That my hair is womanly, but my lips are pale,
That my shapes are womanly, too sharp, too male,
Is my chest dove-like, as the Landsknecht who bares his own
To the blood pact with his Frater?
Or are my small breasts only heavily covered by the black fabric?
When I wake to the solar light,
Lo my eyes are woman, not a man's;
And should I be approached,
The blood, like a curved blade arrowfied in thin air,
Would be then live in the perception, and thus,
In the shadows, upon the vast firmament,
Both solar and lunar light,
My Mystery, guarded.


the Wûlkh, the fantastic alchemical bird, of completely blue-black back, completely white breast and belly, two-headed, clear eyed, several meters wide wingspan, gliding bolt fast inbetween the clouds in the skies, until then, never to come land to a human; impossible
the white buffalo, the fastest, youngest female, running through the plains, until then, never let one mount her through the plains, running fast ahead all others; impossible
the most robust, youngest female trout who jumped through the surface and faced the strong stream of the river upwards instead, and faster than any salmon swam upwards the current, against the stream, leaving all others behind, until then, no other trout done so; impossible
the alchemical phoenix lives in the fire, the good and benign flames you behold when you light a fire to warm you, within them, she is constantly reborn and rising and living and self creating, self devastating, in ignition constant, until then, rarely if ever one could behold a true miracle, lest their heart is pure a plenty to know how true it is..
the blackest earth in the ground, which you behold from above, feel in your hand as you dig through the soil, under your feet, deeply humid, fresh, its grains in your hand, its scent under the sun or in the rain, full of life and life's promise, 
i'm that earth

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