I am in a role playing game. I am a monk of some kind. I have a large wooden shield. I wear a woven, brightly coloured apron. It looks South American. Another team try to roll tiny balls down my trousers. Apparently this makes me guilty of something. They are unsuccessful. I already have balls in my trousers.
A bad rap song on an iPad as a character invocation. I dance to it, in a shamanic trance.
A ruined church. In the towers pagan altars, to war hammer figures, and one with flags of inspirational quotes. My shield is a camera. The viewfinder is glazed. I take photos.
In my rap trance I hear the letter D. I tell my team to remind me of this. We set off in search of clues. We aren’t working as a team and I’m left behind.
I cut through a shop and up stairs. A door opens into a crowd. I ask a young girl what’s happening. It’s a movie with a live band. We are facing the band, the screen is behind us. I love it.
In someone’s house. Tiny kittens are hungry. I feed them and they ask to be cuddled. I purr with them.
Walking downstairs. I enter a Korean spymasters office. We exchange information. I show him how to get the fairies in his garden to come inside, using fresh flowers. I explain that they aren’t really fairies, just small, aerial, luminous jellyfish.
Sharing food at work. Raw chicken. Half eaten burgers. Disgusting sauces.