Wednesday, December 9, 2009

André Kertész


André Kertész (2 July 1894 – 28 September 1985) was a Hungarian-born photographer known for his groundbreaking contributions to photographic composition and the development of the the photo essay. In the early years of his lengthy career, his then-unorthodox camera angles, general bad-assery and his unwillingness to compromise his personal photographic style prevented him from gaining the recognition that he deserved for his contribution to photography. Because people, my darlings, are idiots.

Andre Kertesz, Distortion #39



photocredit: 
http://www.higherpictures.com/
www.butitdoesfloat.com
A faint glow seemed to circulate through the cool air as Tally left the art block, fingers covered in oils following her session in the private studio she had been assigned as an art scholar. It was tiny, covered in paint, and the teacher had only dared interrupt her once, too preoccupied with the rest of the class as she admired their own works. It was a perk, and, though the petite blue girl could have joined the class, the vivid primary colours that flew across her own canvas were better, quieter company. Her latest creation was an old man so colourful that his skin seemed transluscent and shimmering, the large, bold brushstrokes so different from her usual expressive yet detailed style...a girl needed a break once in a while, and the fauvist dance of skittering boar was more than would keep the fiery girl from stabbing the canvas. Bigger than herself, she had promptly hidden it from view behind the wall. Grandparents and twins didn't belong in paintings.

The path towards the glowing red bricks of the sixth form boarding houses, joined by their covered air-bridge, wove through open expanses of sports fields, the spikes of rugby posts in the far distance like stakes, burnished in the dying sunlight. Football and Lacrosse nets cast dappled shadows onto the tufts of mellow english grass near the worn grey of the path, wet white footprints smudging lines like dew and moving in an intricate tango. As the girl surveyed this sky, she noted that it was like walking through the savannah of a Dali, the green firmament of grass and stone, its clouds dappled rosebushes and dry grass that vibrated like a cello between thumb and finger. The blue, unceasing ground above her pointed feet was disconcerting, and Tally finally flipped back onto her feet from her hands as she neared an aging golf cart used to carry battery acid and fertiliser by the red figures that were Telos' mainenance.

No point in wasting a pefectly good pair of pointe shoes on the tarmac that led between buildings. And 400 metres wasn't that far if you didn't weigh much...

As she commandeered the golf cart to drive the last few hundred metres to the bug, nestled in it's nest of other cars, her agate eyes flickered over the scene like a projection. A different group of vari-coloured people gathered around it once more, their colourful jumpers dazzling against the greys and blues of lupos and land rovers.

Apparently the colourful group had tired of people setting off booby traps.

Extending royal blue fingernails into the dark warmth of her pocket, Tally searched for a thin metallic form. Her fingers skating across its glossy surface, she fiddled with the Ipod momentarily, jade eyes hardening and glinting as she swerved nearer to the car using her left hand. With the click of a button, bass started pounding out of the car.

Tally was in a particularly good mood.

"What the Fuck... Seb?" Came a Californian drawl, filling the cooling air of the evening with the dust of California. Its possessor, sunning himself on the bonnet like a panther, glanced over his shoulder at Seb, who seemed to have drifted out of his lesson, for he was now pressing every button in her car like a meercat on speed.

"That was me." Tally muttered carelessly as she pulled the golf cart round 270 degrees on the tarmac. Her liquid, almond eyes darted around the group as she languidly stretched, feet on the steering wheel and her mouth broadening into a feline smile. Surrounded by the pale light, blue hair glinting, her petite form looked almost regal. Regal in a golf cart....odder things had been known to happen at Clarence house, after all.

The hon. Talitha Gillespie-Lighton herself had instigated a few.

"There is no such thing as remote controlled car stereo when the engine isn't even bloody switched on." Jackie noted idly, her voice ringing through the air clearly, its bored tone catching the girls' ear. The petite Asian was dangling an arm off the roof, examining the sky as the bright moon pierced the pallor of clouds and blue. Her dark clothing and slight shape made her like a shadow, save for the magpie-assortment of rings hat she wore.

"You have clearly never genetically modified an ipod." Came the reply from Tally's lips as she smoothed her fine hair back, raking fingers through and letting her neck lengthen to accomodate. She caught the girl's eye as her head moved slowly upwards and bleached elbows moved to prop herself up against the smooth green curve. Tally pointedly placed the altered video on the clubcart's dash, bringing her leg up and straightening the thing into an impossible angle, therefore allowing her to reach the ribbons of her shoe. Unthreading the delicate satin from her leg, she glanced once more at the bodies contorting around the green metal. Cassie, Jackie, Dray, Seb. And the girl who had broken in.

Someone winced at the contortion. Cassie, however, seemed to be enjoying the music itself, and slid off the bonnet to grab the machine. Tally let her. Might as well.

"Honestly, when will you learn that should never try and fix a car that has automatically trapping seat belts? Let me in there." Tally slid off the seat, bare feet hugging the tarmac as she slid into the driver's seat that contained the honey blond tousle that was Seb. The leather seat sank with pleasure at the weight, its clean smell released into the air to mingle with the sparkle of orange and bergamot, jasmine, morning rose, patchouli, vetiver, Seb, bluebells and just the tiniest bit of caffeine. Her tiny frame meant that she could fit in the bucket with him, although she had to sit between his legs. She flicked the boot button, slotting a key into the ignition and letting the engine purr as it revved.

The boy beneath her wriggled uncomfortably, but she chose to ignore it.

"Babe, Moving would not be ideal in the current situation" Dray muttered, inky waves rippling on his bicep as he ran a hand through red hair, pushing himself off the bonnet.

"I suppose..." Tally drew the words out, a sly grin creeping over her red mouth and mischievous glint entering her eyes, making them steely grey. She raised an eyebrow, studying her hand for chipped nail polish. "I guess it's a tad too early for mauling people. Well...most people. How are you for being smothered nto the backseat of a bug?"

"It's more muffling." noted Seb, wearily. HE smelled of turps. The boy did rt? Mmmm. Turps. And sandlewood. "are you planning on moving?"

"Im planning on driving, so...no." A dazzling smile and a shift so that no weight was on the boy. She slammed the seat back suddenly so that she could edge forward. The driver's door was slammed viciously.

Three girls piled into the back. There might have been more, but she didn't notice. Dray slipped into the seat beside her, and the door behind him slipped into place with a resounding clink.

"Less flower, more power" He remembered, fingering the dash with a miniature beetle dinky toy and watching it crash repeatedly into the windscreen. "Where to?"

"I was thinking an exploration. And the music block...I need to run an errand... Who knows where else? Terrible T?"

"Eh?"

"Tescos. Why do I surround myself with uneducated people? The money's in the wallet in the back."

A grin was flashed into the rearview mirror as the small car reversed and shot down the driveway. Somewhere, a seatbelt clicked. 

The emerald light that fell through the tree lined avenues was cool on fair skin. Echoing from the near distance, the faint voice of the choir could be heard, mingling and bouncing off several pianos' tunes as the music school became visible in Tally's line of sight. Once again, she lifted her finger to tackle a stray lock of sapphire from her eyes, feeling for a hair tie to manipulate the soft, fine hair into a neat bun at the base of her neck. A feline smile crept across the angles of her face as she closed her eyes and felt the green light bathe her face, allowing the beat of the music to wash over her.

Tally was lost in a world without loss. She was dancing again.

The soft moleskin soles of her black ballet shoes pressed against the warm blackness of the tarmac, as she approached an open glass door and entered a fairly large, modern building. Twigs crunched underfoot like old cocoons as she put pressure on the ground, climbing up the few worn steps that led into the light white corridor of the music block. She padded down the clinical cuboid in silence, ears alert to any notes that crept out from the practise rooms. Turning down through the small and compact maze of corridors, she paused and pushed open a large wooden door that led into a room whose sides were mirrored, a floor to ceiling studio window on the fourth. Leaning on this sheet of glass, a view of the manmade lake and willows, was a petite blonde russian, cigarette dangling from her lips as she swayed, eyes closed, in time to the music of Pugni.

"Pharoah's daughter?" Tally asked enquiringly as the teacher dropped her cigarette. "Isn't that a bit emotionally traumatic Mademoiselle?"

The teacher's eyes were apathetic as they glanced over her dark uniform, lips curled into their, Tally already noted, accustomed sneer.

<>

Straightening her back the woman drawled, in a strong muscovite accent, "Created for best talian ballerina ever. Now for you. Go change." She gestured at one of the mirrored panels, a handle carved into it so finely that it appeared as would a secret door. Tally padded across the room, swearing in french. Not only had the difficult dances been designed for Carolina Rosati, but she was far too tired to go straight in to choreography.

"and drop ugly mud-cake shoes."

<>

Tally's face crumpled as she rubbed thighs that would be aching soon, and hoped she had any rupping alcohol left for her toes in her dorm. She would need to get the pointe shoes from her pocket, no cheating like Pavlova. "Will do."

<>

The room was small, dark, and filled with costumes. The smell of mothballs, powder and resin hit Tally at once, so powerfully that her own perfume, Penhaligon's bluebell, was knocked out. She shook her haid, wrinkling her nose and bending over as she stripped down to her leotard and tights uncertainly in the dark. Flexing her shoulder back, her elbow connected with the door thus sending it flying open and illuminating the room so that the dazzling pinks and moroccan blues could be seen, fantastic repros of the 1920s and 1890s. In her white tights, the blue leotard catching in the mirror against the vibrant green of legwarmers that had been slung over her right shoulder, she padded over to the general vicinity of the main door to the room, where a try of resin was placed on the springy mahogany floor.

"I expect other pupil in your second class."

"Boy or girl?" Tally murmured as she concentrated on tying ribbons around her fragiley thin legs.

"Not know. I hope boy, you must be girl. You..." the woman paused, smiling, "Could not carry pigeon. Also, I have hear your bourées like... how they say...string of pearls?"

"Merde." Tally muttered.

The teacher caught Tally's eye and, holding her gaze, Tally thought she saw amusement in the steel-spiked stare.

"You have been taught both Vaganova and Ceccheti? This is strange. Not unheard of, strange. Exams here ceccheti. You study for senior dancer now. Me? I have learn Vaganova."

The almond shaped eyes broke away from the gaze as the teacher stood in silence. Thhe break in music came, and the cd clicked into place in the sound system.

"Get on floor. We warm up.... legs crossed, in air, 24 abdominals. Then down, flat, 8 to each side. Down, crosed, 24. Down, knees bent to side, 24. Then we warm up hands, feet, do breathing excercised..."

as the teacher outlined the grueling warm up regime, Tally slipped across the floor and into position. From here, she could see through the window the choir rehearsing. She grinned as she caught sight of a few heads.

About ten minutes before the bell rang for second lesson, as she worked on different entries into the third arrabesque, Tally realised that she needed to feed Pablo. She also realised that she needed a real conversation... perhaps Cassie had or would watch Casablanca. Her back and arms in perfect alignment, she began to hold, when, in one last realisation, she realised that her foot was too low, and she hadn't given the girls the keys to lock the car up again. Whatever. They could take it for a spin. Wasn't like they were gonna crash it now.

My shoes beat your shoes

(Jak and Jil)
The air was stuffy and filled with the faint aroma of cleaning fluids. Underneath it lay hostility that was mossy and tangible, seeping in to the corridor with its musty stench and ages of old memories, memories that played like videos beneath the surface. Sparks flew between the boys as if they were motoring off each other. It was a feeling that Tally knew well, the steel of hatred pulsating through you, surrounded by fiery white bolts of affectionate protectiveness towards the other person. The tension in the air vibrated as it surrendered what little yield there was between the twins. They held each other's gaze like fencers, missing only foils. Tally had left hers in her room ready for Thursday. Although she was quite sure some rifles could be found in the clay pigeon club…. 

The state of wariness was rising so fast that she felt she had to intervene, before Nathan repeated her own mistakes and pissed off his brother to the point of…well, the point. Absently she let her eyes flicker over the frames of the three boys by the door to the san on the opposite wall of the corridor. Seb was a terrier; fiercely coiled, the whites of his knuckles facing her and his sharp jaw line jutting up to look at the two taller boys, challenging them. In a sharp and disjointed movement Nik's shoulders straightened, creaking with disuse like an old cupboard, his eyes glistening with emotions that swirled in angry reds as he held his stare. The twins seemed to be communicating wordlessly, and finally Nathan, his shoulders slouched, leaning against the wall sneered and turned to face her. She noted absently that they seemed disconnected.

"I suppose the shrew isn't worth it."

Shifting her weight onto her left foot, Talitha's red lips parted slowly as she contemplated a diversion, "I prefer vixen darling…or is that disdain?" She drawled. "Anyway, before we were so rudely interrupted by Lord Benedick here, we were discussing the use of 'bitch' as a term of endearment," she stepped forward unconsciously onto the ball of her right foot, as a ballerina rolling forward onto pointe, "Indeed, I know a small boy that I had to train out of it… for some reason the babysitter was getting ballsy about the whole debacle."

"Bollocks. Any child would run away from you. They're famous judges of character." Nathan snapped his gaze from his brother slowly, as though it took effort to break the scrutinizing connection between their eyes. He smirked, his eyes studying her angular features carefully.

"Actually my good sir, I hear that the boy, Luca, has been trying to escape the confines of Gloucestershire in order to visit Telos. Well… live here more likely. He spends most of his time in my room anyway. I might have to smuggle him in."

"Yeah, because that would be healthy and not at all mentally disturbing…" Nathan sneered.

"You can't say you don't know what it's like to have a brother you dunce." She snapped her gaze to Nik and caught his eye. Her mouth was frozen like that of a statue, but her eyes sparkled with hidden merriment. After a second he broke the interchange and stepped away from his brother, as if to pace an imaginary path to the other wall.

As he moved slowly like a tired dog, every movement became etched on her retina like dark shadows under tissue paper, clear and yet…undefined.  A note of bewildement entered his tone, "He's your brother?" The tension seemed to be latently dormant underneath new concerns. These seemed to be mainly involved with why Tally would have let a toddler learn how to swear.

"He adopted me. And as a wise leader should I not follow my influences wishes?"

A silence filled the corridor, which echoed only with footsteps against the industrial carpet, it's dusk pink, musty green and grey dots dancing under stilettos and brogues, creating a colour that resembled something a cat had coughed up. "It's odd…I can't quite pin down your reactions." Seb muttered almost silently after a while. Various replies reverberated between them, unspoken. Some involved cussing and accusations, some quality of opponents, and some the amount of caffeine in the bloodstream. After the short silence, filled only with the faintness of breathing and muffled foot falls, Nathan, his voice filled with mixed tones of both regions and emotions, asserted himself stonily.

"I still maintain that any creature with effective means of estimating character would flee, or face violence. Only fools and dogs can stand a bitch." He glared meaningfully at his brother as he walked to heel with him, trying to keep up with his dancing feet. Tally sensed that Nik was unwilling to let this occur. So the carefully concealed tension exposed itself again to Tally.

"Do I gather that, in your imagined majorities, one is enough for you to be satisfied in such a broad generalisation? Because if so, then I acquiesce. Because that would give an actual reason would argue that the bloody prick that accosted me earlier. Idiot appealed to be knocked against a wall by someone with an unlikely sense of chivalry. "

A look that crossed between…hey-only-I-should-get-to-do-that and humour crossed Nathan's face.

"Thinking back he should have at least been given a broken nose." Seb muttered.

"I'm surprised you let others fight your own battles." Nathan glanced at his hand. "I assumed more of a fork wielding madwoman."

"I was just gonna leave it. The guy was full of testosterone and was already wounded by my forgetfulness; I failed to remember to quake at his sex appeal. Besides… there are worthier opponents."

"Are you implying that you stake people you admire?" She didn't know who the question came from.

"No, I'm implying that I impale people who should know better, and leave idiots to do damage to themselves. To be honest, I haven't really met many gallant protectors in a while. It's always nice. Because I would have wanted to deck the guy had I not been wearing my good ring." With that, she glanced down at an irregular and bumpy silver ring. Metal shop. Year….hmm….whenever they let childlings run with soldering irons. For some reason, it always made her want to choke. She mused that she was actually getting used to having those girls around, and that perhaps they should go for a drive… One should always explore new experiences, and the girls weren't idiots like most. Who knew… maybe more. How many people could fit in a bug? As they approached the dining room to pick up coffee she hoped that they would be milling around somewhere.

Funny that. Hope, I mean.

Reminds me of home...



Tibault De Montaigu and Sofia Achaval - The Selby
http://www.latenightfeelings.com/flngsblog/index.php?option=com_myblog&show=hell-hath-no-fury-and-all-that.html&Itemid=14

Sugimoto Hiroshi - Theaters
Assembly culminated with a round of polite applause from the students after a long winded speech about pulling together to better oneself and also the school. To her amusement she would normally have the first three lessons free on a Tuesday out of a normal six. Each lesson was fifty minutes, starting at nine with a break called 'the half' at ten-fifty and lunch at one-fifteen meaning all lessons were finished by four thirty. She stalked out, ready to maintain her distance until her timing was perfect and would make the most impact. Having dealt with the girls' response to her arrival only the day before she was fairly certain that the rumours would soon start to spread like pollen on the air and she was sure that in no time they would grow and spiral and right before they flooded into an uncontrollable hysteria, then she would make her move.

Nik and his scowling brother had disappeared after the master, two strays dogging the footsteps of a despotic master. Dray waved and said he had politics and would maybe see her at lunch. The other two girls hadn't emerged from whatever hole they had buried themselves in. Sebastian was stretching, catlike on the other side of the oak doors. He wasn't waiting for her, she could tell, but she could also see that he didn't mind if she lingered with him for a moment. Just to help those rumours egg along.

The boy was small. Smaller than she was. And thin. Thinner than was probably natural for a guy, though not exactly weak looking... which was an odd mix. He had strong shoulders, she could tell that, despite the dark folds of the uniform jacket. There was certainly something feral about him. Something distinctly sharp about his face. The keeness in his eyes, as if he were hyper aware of the little movements, the details seemed caught there.

"Walk?" She said with a long appraisal, "These people seem to think I'm still drinking gin or something."

He focused in on her and slowly nodded. The fall of his fringe obscuring the eyes that flickered over her, "That wasn't gin earlier?"

"Lime cordial. It's much more satisfying in the morning. Wakes you up."

He nodded again, "There's a river."

"I haven't seen it."

The slope of his neck, pale even in the orangey light of the hall, bent ever so slightly as he inclined his head and began to walk away. There was a sort of reverance in his every step, as if in each second he was in a perpetual state of movement, taking in eternity with each tick of the grandfather clock or the winnie the pooh wristwatch she'd had since she was three and a half. Why she felt this. She was not entirely sure. There was an agression to him also but again not towards the world. Almost agianst himself. Well, she'd make the most of this wily character before the world became her oyster.
Cassi and Jackie had disappeared by the time she and the five boys had reached the assembly hall. Nik was nibbling on his lower lip, obviously the closer they came to their talk with the head master the more worried he was becoming. Where as Nathan had slipped into a passive mask. It didn't surprise her. They were very different after all. It equally had not been particularly unexpected that the two other girl's had decided to skive. They were not to know that the first assembly of a year was the only time it was worth going. The rows upon rows of neatly aligned, red cushioned chairs were already filling up, the clumps of people giving away friendship circles and the different year groups. She raised her chin, above the rest, glad she'd worn her brightest Chanel red and used the more than fantabulous Dior Mascara. The bland, pale faces, the preppy 'sloane' hair slopped to one side, back-combed and stuck in place with fructis, she could not help but curl her mouth in snide contempt for their uniformity. She and Freddie had used to laugh at them. She glance at the twins. Noticed that Dray was now lounging in the middle of a row on his own and Sebastian was skulking, hands in pockets as his bright eyes roved over the other inmates with barely contained disgust. Tally decided she quite liked him.

With a second glance, she walked up the aisle to a seat slightly off of them, at the other end of the same row of a bunch of girls about their age. One shot her a rather puzzled look. From the end of the row, she studied the girl's textbooks as she listened to a rather insane blond called Georgie bumble half heartedly through what she had written on what sounded to be a rather poor essay on politics in 1950s America. Her books, however looked fairly interesting, 'How Do We Know Anything', 'L'Etranger' and 'Sophie's World'… Philosophy maybe?

The wooden table at the front of the old auditorium was raised on a small stage so all could see it. It was calloused, and carved. And as the Master rose, he room fell silence, even Georgie. The man started, droning away at the front in an accent that sounded thicker than it had yesterday, heavy as if his tongue was swollen. Talitha frowned and scraped her eyes over the room again. There was no sign of Taco. Poor guy, I really did like him, if only because the slight lilt of his voice had been slightly soothing. Sure he had been irritating at times what with the whole prefect thing going on but it was almost endearing, his desire to make the school work without the loss of any limbs or sanity.
Cassi and Jackie had disappeared by the time she and the five boys had reached the assembly hall. Nik was nibbling on his lower lip, obviously the closer they came to their talk with the head master the more worried he was becoming. Where as Nathan had slipped into a passive mask. It didn't surprise her. They were very different after all. It equally had not been particularly unexpected that the two other girl's had decided to skive. They were not to know that the first assembly of a year was the only time it was worth going. The rows upon rows of neatly aligned, red cushioned chairs were already filling up, the clumps of people giving away friendship circles and the different year groups. She raised her chin, above the rest, glad she'd worn her brightest Chanel red and used the more than fantabulous Dior Mascara. The bland, pale faces, the preppy 'sloane' hair slopped to one side, back-combed and stuck in place with fructis, she could not help but curl her mouth in snide contempt for their uniformity. She and Freddie had used to laugh at them. She glance at the twins. Noticed that Dray was now lounging in the middle of a row on his own and Sebastian was skulking, hands in pockets as his bright eyes roved over the other inmates with barely contained disgust. Tally decided she quite liked him.

With a second glance, she walked up the aisle to a seat slightly off of them, at the other end of the same row of a bunch of girls about their age. One shot her a rather puzzled look. From the end of the row, she studied the girl's textbooks as she listened to a rather insane blond called Georgie bumble half heartedly through what she had written on what sounded to be a rather poor essay on politics in 1950s America. Her books, however looked fairly interesting, 'How Do We Know Anything', 'L'Etranger' and 'Sophie's World'… Philosophy maybe?

The wooden table at the front of the old auditorium was raised on a small stage so all could see it. It was calloused, and carved. And as the Master rose, he room fell silence, even Georgie. The man started, droning away at the front in an accent that sounded thicker than it had yesterday, heavy as if his tongue was swollen. Talitha frowned and scraped her eyes over the room again. There was no sign of Taco. Poor guy, I really did like him, if only because the slight lilt of his voice had been slightly soothing. Sure he had been irritating at times what with the whole prefect thing going on but it was almost endearing, his desire to make the school work without the loss of any limbs or sanity.

Mornings had never been a particular passion of Talitha's, in fact, most days she leaned towards hatred in her appraisal of them. The first windy mornings of winter were her least favourite of all after the warm, heated shimmers that had greeted her in the summer months. Of course, Autumn was not the problem, but simply the mornings and the sudden transgression from welcoming warmth to the calculated cold. Today was no different, though she had stretched quite languidly before rising and realising that she would indeed be needing the thick black tights she had packed just in case of early autumnal chills. By the afternoon it would probably be back up to the August temperatures if she knew anything about the fluky weather patterns of coastal England.

Sipping at her earl grey tea she glanced over the assembled assortment of new comers to the school. That the girl's had gravitated to her annoyed her slightly. She wasn't used to be part of a small, insular group like that, not with people she barely knew or barely cared to know. Last night on the mound had been more like her usual accompaniment, a collection of boys with a few scattered girls here and there, the centre of attention for her specially scented cigarettes and her refined habit of smoking only through the holder. The rest of the breakfast seemed rather unappealing in the morning glow, probably because it was far too early to be eating… Though she helped herself to a green granny smith to boost her metabolism for the day.

Nik and Nathan were glum to look at; though Nathan was peculiarly calm if you ignored the stabbing silver fork attacking the over cooked bacon on his plate. Nik on the other hand was frowning; brows furrowed into deep dents between his eyes and causing his otherwise young face seem old. There was pathos to their situation, Nik so obviously desperate to be here, Nathan overtly against it. They had taken the blame and their dreams seemed on the edge of fragmenting like ash on a wind. She narrowed her eyes, considering them carefully, knowing that their silence was most likely to do with the deep rooted tension that was taut about their necks and slowly she realised that both were upset at the other.

"You know, when you talk to the man, you should ask to see Taco." She said, crunching down on a last piece of apple before talking. The cup of tea was almost empty, it was nearly time for coffee. She waited for them to turn to her, all of them, she was once again in the spotlight, "I don't know if you've ever been at a school such as this before, but they won't expel you, not while the bills are footed. If you express intense concern and mention frequently that 'had you known'… You'll be unlucky to get even detention."

Nathan was boring holes through her, eyes pin prick sized machines tunnelling down into her body as if digging for the truth. She sipped her tea and drained the cup before putting it down with a gentle clink. He was very much like she was, though he still had his brother. She perked an eyebrow and tipped her head back so her spine straightened out. There was no lie in her argument this time.

"We should have assembly in a minute." Cassi broke the tenuous silence with a glance at the ornately decorated grandfather clock by the doors. The painting behind the face seemed to be a miniature renaissance, perhaps in the style of Michelangelo, Talitha couldn't help but admire the peach coloured cloud formations, the lazy brush strokes that made up each of the perfect, naked bodies, the radiance conveyed through the reflection of light on the water. It was pretty. Aristocratic.
The water of the pool was glassy and black, it's mirored surface shattered, sending pale white cobwebs skittering across like the threads on a loom. It was so thick and cold and black that the heat radiating out of her was almost tangible, and Tally splayed out her fingers to send them dancing over the water as she tread water. Her bra was casually tossed over the bench, and instead she wore a scarf as a halter neck bikini, something that dray had been overly appreciative of. So she had shut down the lights. The stars, reflecting in the blackness and yet seeming to cut through into it's murky depths, glimmered through the glass roof. Jackie floated somewhere near the centre of the pool, her eyes absorbing he cosmos voraciously. currents left over from the others' movements undulated slowly across the water so that she seemed to toss like a battered raft on the lulling waves after a storm. Silence reigned, although drips of water, irregularly placed and yet endlessly repetitive, cut through the blackness.

Tally began to swim towards the side. They had been in the water for the best part of twenty minutes, and yet the sky was...overpowering them. The swim was restful, if not exciting. Placing her darkened nails onto the side of the pool, she began to heave herself out. Water dripping in beads down her body, she reached for a shirt, possibly dray's or her own, it was hard to tell in the dark, and buried her face into the warm cotton.

In hushed tones, Cassie's voice echoed around the room. "Wait, do you hear something?"

The sound of water spraying replied as Dray, idly paddling on his back in the shadows, lifted his head. Indeed, a light and some voices could be seen through the glass house walls of the pool complex. The circle of white danced around as it's shadowy possessor moved over the uneven ground, definitely headed towards them. "Nah, it's probably thosse other....guys." he finished, somewhat lamely. Tally stretched her neck, tilting her head to one side as though cocking her ears like a spaniel. Voices could be heard, but they were definitely not the dulcet tones of the boys.

"Two words.." Jackie countered. "Smoking. Patrol."

"they didn't have a torch anyway," Cassie noted in a somewhat absent manner.

"Mobiles?" Tally enquired.

"Nah. that's far too bright, and round. Definitely a torch chica." Dray noted, now standing waste deep in water as he craned his neck to catch a glimpse.

A silence felll over them. Nobody really cared if they were caught but...it was the principle of the thing. Teachers were born to be outwited. Jackie voiced as much in a few words and the others remained in silent agreement. "So....woods?" cassie murmured.

"It would seem we have to.....
put on any clothes you can find.

A few minutes later, thanks to the lock picking abilities of their group, they sat on a grassy roundabout of mottled white tree stumps, pitted with cigarette burns and worn smooth by hundreds of students. A stream could be heard gurgling over mossy rocks and slipping, twinkling and unseen over the debris of the woodland. The clearing, encircled by a large gorse bush which had a myriad of hard beaten paths leading from various hidden entrances, was silent, save for the occasional crunching of autumnal leaves and hushed chatter of other sixth formers as they passed by, completely obscured, on the other side of the thick branches. Under the bowed and smooth branch of an old sycamore tree was a pile of ash caused by cigarette buts and campfires - the students worked on the basis that you put them out, and then dumped them in the pile, since hopefully the ash wouldn't burn. Even so, butts and tin foil littered the clearing, trampled hard into the mud so that molehills and rabbit warrens seamed to gleam silver in the moonlight. The clearing was not big, could fit maybe ten people, and yet it was a sanctuary. Someone had even left a kindly and rather broken old broom for sweeping away tracks.

They had begun talking about the rather banal topic of subjects.

"italian, russian, french, art, history, philosophy." Tally murmured. "And I got into that critical thinking class"

"So...fuck it...7 as levels? That's fucked man."

"And general studies. But russian's not. Thats..." she paused and seemed to shrug, huddling into the jacket she was sharing with jackie in return for letting her bum a fag to get a nicotine fix. "it's a Spare thing. Not examined."

A rustling could be heard as seb pushed his way through the bush. Followng him came Nik, Nathan and Taco. Taco seemed to falter as he viewed the despondant scene before him. It was as though his prefect senses were being hastily switched off.

A steady drawl came from Nathan's mouth. Tally glanced up and studied the small patch of stubble now appearing on his face. She had almost forgotten that it was already tommorow morning. "well lets see. If it isn't the bitch again."

The insult, or title, as it were, seemed half hearted as Nathan let his eyes drift towards his brother, now stumbling around, grabbing a cigarette from the packet proffered, and sitting on an empty tree trunk. Nathan moved as if to join his twin.

"Oh dear, I'll have to think up a more appropriate name for you my good sir." Sparks of electricity flew between them, and yet beneath her calculated mirth Tally felt the cold rush of jealousy as he, quickly ducking to the right, sat on the seat next to nik. What was interesting was that they didn't share, one or other was definitely pissed off.

"MGS...sounds like an infectious disease." someone murmured. It could have been seb, although she doubted it as he moved to take the seat in between Her and jackie, and Nick.

"Well we can't have that. I'll just call you Dasha."

A barely muffled snort was emmited, although arguably it could have been a distorted "..the fuck?" Taco wrinkled his nose at the fumes of the cigarette.

"these don't smell of death sticks they smell of..."

"cloves?" cassie offered, as though trying to end speculation quickly so that she could enjoy the last of tally's packet.

"yeah."

"clear your throat too" tally muttered. " good for colds. Albeit still full of wonderful Nicoteney goodness." She stared down in the moonlight at the mark of her old lipstick on the filter. She hadn't smoked crude for years. "Makes your clothes smell nice too."

It was a somewhat despondant topic, but everyone was tired. After more brief words they fell into a comfortable silence, only broken up by glares between one or more parties. The glares didn't make it akward, because in their way they were....admiring. Ha. Try explaining that one.

"We locked smoking patrol in the pool" Dray offered as a new topic of conversation. A few more murmurs. The silence enveloped them like a comfortable cocoon.

"Anyone got any tats?"

"Stingray" Tally murmured into the darkness, barely glancing up as she studied the moon's rays filtering like snowfall through the surrounding foliage. She thought she heard the rustling of a small animal.

"where" Nik piped up, catching her eyes with is soft nutmeg brown ones. It was almost diffusing and perturbing how deep his eyes went into hers.

"Now that, that would be telling."

"Made it up bitch?" Nathan added, smirking.

"I hardly feel like a strip tease in this weather. Stupid fluctuating bloody british...She turned to face him. Besides, that would require me dropping a few more clothes than i care too for a secont time this night."

An owls hoot broke the silence. she lifted her head like a snake, watching its prey with one eye open.... It was a few hours until sunrise.

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select ony things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don't bother concealing your thievery - celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: "It's not where you take things from - it's where you take them to." Jim Jarmusch

It was a queer, sultry sought of day as Tally stumbled neatly out of the driver's seat of the bug, curling her fingers to neatly fold the Navy strays of straight hair behind her ear. The Constantines thumped out of the small round speakers in the leather-lined door, the beat and buzz of melody pulsating through the heavy air as it mumbled past her with its liquid heat. The fusty and familiar smell of old books and rancid developer solution rose through the shimmering heat as she surveyed the hot granite canyons of the car park, wavering in the sunlight as car tops sizzled and glittered in various muted tones of blue and grey.

Tally thought that the shiny new bright green beetle, resting momentarily on the melting blackness, looked positively sad amongst the dirty tones. Mud caked the cars and blistered into hot canyons, formed by the wet tracks of tractors through the idle country lanes of the shires. It really was far too hot for any sort of work, and the machines slept like farm animals would, with a dreary and confused light glinting from the mirrors in their headlights. She stepped around the car to the open boot, glimpsing the silhouette of the school cutting against the southern landscape. Its Victorian architecture was positively garish against the soft greys of the rolling pasture surrounding it. Turning to face the boot of the car, Talitha let her hands curl around the cold metal handle mounted onto the end of a Navy stained trunk. Ice seeped into her warm hands, the metal cutting into the soft palms as the darkened red nails of her right hand bit into the base of her thumb. She tugged, watching with satisfaction as a turquoise suitcase stumbled momentarily, but refused to fall from it's teetering position on several cardboard boxes.

The trunk see-sawed on the boot's lip flightingly, but her elbows flew back sharply and she deftly maneuvered her left hand to catch the right handle of her trunk, her legs buckling temporarily under the strain of carrying a trunk the size of her. She'd had it since prep school, and had by now mastered the art of weight dispersion. The tendons in her leg stiffening as she moved, Tally walked past the rows of grey machines until she had stepped onto the faintly risen, square courtyard of trampled grass at the end of the small car park. The opened door of the sixth form boarding house lay almost directly opposite her position and was separated from the tarmac by the 20 feet or so of lurid green. It was American lawn, Tally noted with a sort of faint disdain, not real british mossy stuff that was full of moles and bugs that made little girls scream. She let the trunk fall to the floor a few inches in front of her feet and turned on her heels, the palms of her hands covered with angry red welts. She wore a Trench coat and red heels, and nothing else, save for a slash of red dior on her now pursed lips. A seasoned boarder, Tally knew that the first thing to do when entering a new school was to leave straight for the boarding houses, thereby circumnavigating the false tones of bored teachers and the annoying prattle of excited plebians. It generally meant that your appearence was met with a sense of curiosity that kept others away and staring in awe. Incuding teachers. Her second rule - Never introduce yourself, merely be fabulous. That way everyone knew who you were, but no one dared to piss you off. It occured to Tally that she had avoiding people down to an art form. It helped that she had called ahead and been assured of a single dorm.

She didn't do sharing - not her life, no anything. Not with anyone except freddie, and now all that the could share with him was petals splashed with briny tears. As she approached her car again she noticed that haggard and boring students had begun to assemble with curiosity around it, their hair stringy and the female's faces devoid of make up. It seemed that all of the tired students were hooked up on a diet of caffeine and Benzandrine. They stared numbly as they gossiped and gathered in crowds like little black ants, their coloured belly's protruding like blackberries from a heaving bush. In a word, they were all plain. Their uniformity was like the pillars that bedecked the front of the main school, which lay across the playing fields, no doubt bedecked with proverbs in Greek and Latin. Tally had been at boarding school for her memorable life - The students independence seemed to have been sapped by the haze, but then again that had been occuring at schools for years without notice. She heaved a sigh and began to pace towards the nearest girl, pressing into her hand a school shop card, some notes and a piece of note paper with sizes scrawled on to it.

"Get me some royal blue, red, purple, brown, fuscia and"....tally drawled in her regal and melodious voice as she surveyed the other pupils that had begun to cluster around the car park with interest, "charcoal jumpers will you Darling?" The girl, clearly in Tally's own year, looked taken aback but nodded dumbly, as though she was so shocked that she would do it anyway. People were so easy to manipulate. But only if you had the right tone which, it had to be said, most people didn't. Tally seemed to exude authority and elegance, her disdainful manner and permanantly bored pout not nasty, but an amused and mysterious sneer, as though the people around her were infinitely silly and she were indestructible. Her grey-green eyes were like transparent agate and quartz, hard and polished like her milky skin. Her pallor seemed to melt outwards, freezing the air around her. She was small of stature, but then again, so was Napoleon.

Pausing, the air hanging as though waiting for her to speak, she furrowed her high eyebrows and then caught the girls gaze. "I can always tell the nice girls, straight away."

The girl's ruddy skin turned positively beetroot, matching the reddish brown hair that had been messed up artfully in the public school
manner, clearly glowing with a mingled sense of pride and complete, utter confusion. She probably had an awfully innapropriate name like Isabella, which tally felt belonged to people with cheekbones, Slavic eyes and glossy dark hair. Talitha stressed the word nice, all the while her mind flitting to what a boring, plain girl she was entrusting with with her money. It was always those sorts that would do it unquestioningly and without cheating, she mused as she smiled at the bemused girl and returned to the car, the corner of her eye traching her as she moved to gather a group and marched solemnly off on her mission. The gaggle merged into monotone as they moved further out of view, until all that Talitha could see was the suitcases in the boot once more. Spinning her keys on the keyring, she slipped them deep into the checkered pockets of her trench coat and grabbed the top of a wheeled turquoise suitcase, pulling it onto the ground and setting it into an upright position, it's handle telescoping upwards jerkily. The crowds had begun to disperse as they remembered that they would, in fact, be living with her for the rest of term. The dull buzz of people began to evaporate into the muted colours of the sixth form car park. Tally was somewhat appalled at how some of them had let themselves become so....messy, having arrived on the last day of the induction week unnanounced, she assumed that most of them had only been here a week - it being mandatory to take at least two weeks off before induction week, whether parents wanted it or not. Telos was not, after all, Hogwarts, even if there was a somewhat strange air to the place. It reminded her of the Eagles' song - "You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave."

Tally rotated on the heels of her red-soled shoes and began to wheel the two matching suitcases across the tarmac, the pale seafoam glinting in the sunlight as the expensive leather detailing fell under the hot shadows of the trees that lined two sides of the carpark. The view of the school, to her left, was not blocked by trees, the long grey gravel of the drive cutting like a glittering grey river through the playing fields until it joined the main driveway, which curved away further into the left side of the horizon. It seemed. so far away that people moving looked like the waitresses in a stadium.... small, selling drinks and cheap cigars to people crammed into a sea of orange plastic. Tally imagined wandering across the field at 6 in the morning with Murakami in hand, the peaceful air laden with the refreshing wetness that seeped in overnight and always dispersed by seven minutes past. Dropping her suitcases so that they lay next to the wooden trunk, she remembered the dog-eared copy of "A wind up Bird chronicle" that lay on the back seat and swore as she remembered that the canary was sitting in it's white Victorian cage, shitting all over the tea towel that she had lain over the passenger seat.... Pablo was probably scaring people away from the boot where he was perched, in his own cage, on a pile of books, DVDs and old oil paintings, all wrapped in saris and faded newspapers. Yet more stuff to carry.

When I grow up..


I'm going to turn into Catherine Baba

(Source: http://jakandjil.com/blog/)

Dr. Patterson's notes 22/11/09

.....click


Now, Talitha, may I ask your full name?


Why? Is there any point to this?


pause


Will you let me do my job?


It's Talitha Eleanor Genvieve Arabella Gillespie-Lighton. I still don't see the point in this.


And your age?


19. I'm female, too. In case you hadn't noticed.


Indeed. You do realise that this is being recorded for our records?


Joy. Wonder. Can I get out of here? I need a cigarette...


I'm sitting opposite Talitha Gillespie-Lighton, who is wearing a regal expression that seems fixed, Her dark, fairly plucked, eyebrows arch up in a high curve from the bridge of her perfectly symmetrical nose, which gives her eyes a somewhat cat like appearence and the pupils of her grey-green eyes seem to survey everything around her....


...Do I pretend that I'm not here?


That's the general idea, yes. Will you let me finish?


...Fine.


Her skin is flawless and pale, it's translucence seeming to mask a faint blue glow. Defining her face are her cheekbones, brow bones and chin, making her face somewhat angular, although not bird like. Her hair, dyed a very dark shade of blue, is parted severely to the right and the fringe is tucked behind her ear, but she lets the rest of it flow loosely. It is Straight and falls to shoulder length, feathering slightly at the ends so that it is shaped to her face. Her lips are pale, plump and fairly rounded and are permanently formed into a smirk. Her 5"2 frame is petite, and very slim... Unhealthy.


...slim enough to fit into the clothes and hats from my Grandmother's trunks, I'll have you know. Do you not think that you're damaging my development by summarising me in front of my eyes? IS this not what shorthand was invented for?


What are you drinking from that thermos??


Straight Gin.


Occasionally Tonic.


Papers shuffle. Sound of a lighter.


A cigarette holder?


Why not?


It says here that you were brought up in a stately home with sharp manners, a sense of self sufficiency, a penchant for hording things and a complete disregard for other peoples origins, and often feelings.


Can I just say that I'm an independent recluse? It sounds less neurotic.


But Talitha, we do have to look at your neuroses. That's what I'm here for. Why would you call yourself a recluse? Are you scared of people and confrontation?


No, I would say its rather been nurtured by my disdain of the closed minded idiocy prevalent around me.


And this has nothing to do with your Brother?


The only thing that affected was the fact that I passed my driving test in a month. Father won't touch a steering wheel and Mother locked herself in the morning room, there wasn't much to do except drive, shoot game and become self destructive.


Its been suggested here by your previous doctors that you enjoys manipulating and tormenting people who try to sympathise with you.... Do you want to tell me why?


Pride.


Its written here that you've become sadistic, pessimistic and Short-tempered since his death.


I always was. I just took it out on Fred.


So do you perceive yourself as having good self-insight?


Oh it doesn't take a degree in psychoanalysis my lovely. Privileged....throws money around... but more becuase she doesn't really care about money at all, only her own definitions of class... this shows a superiority complex because she's choosing to confound normal conventions and puzzle those around her... Can't show her loyaty to her family due to conflicting emotions... still bitter towards her mother and hurt that her father can't look at her.

So, tell me about your parents relationshio after your twin's death.



Brief. Father has thrown himself into his work and now spends all of his time working in america. He can't look at me or my mother in the eye anymore, and effectively leaves the room when either one enters. My socialite of a mother has become completely introverted and spends her live locked in the Morning room, filled with red flowers that I secretly replace every week, and she's constantlymurmering and pouring endless cups of tea.


And how has this effected you?


What, that my mother has become a vegetable? Really, she should have been institutionalised. Instead, I was. Oh quality boarding school education... how you fail to tame me.


So you've grown more and more restless and only turn up to lessons sporadically, only to start arguing with your History teacher over Erasmus and generally disrupting the learning of everyone else? How is this a resolution to your problems?


Its not. It's a power play. Other girls view the flying tempest that they see with a sort of wild respect and you have to treat them all rottenly, save for the foreign students who you can occasionally converse with in languages picked up from the old library at the manor.


And why do you push away your peers??


I'm sufficiently accompanied. I have a canary called Giovanni who lives an antique white cage and a swearing parrot called Pablo that follows me to school and into shops- his wings aren't clipped. Annoying but belonged to Fred, who dilegently taught him all the cusses he knew. There's a worrying fact that as a macaw he has the potential to be with me for 50 to 100 years.....


This doesn't explain your self-destructive behaviour. Drag racing? Being arrested in a scottish airport because you forgot that you'd left an antique pistol in your barbour jacket?


Hey, what can I say, I like big guns, fast cars, sharp objects, music, culture, clothes and intelligent people.


What about the mugger that you put into counselling?


Nobody holds a knife near my face.


And your transfer script; Sent to Telos for leading riots and manipulting the governers. Talitha, do you really think this is condusive to a healthy lifestyle?



Chair rustles. Door slams.