Water drips, sand trickles through fingers, feathers float and fall. Time slips away; the body shifts and re- shapes, everything changes. 

An evocative dance theatre piece using text and strong visual imagery.

 ‘At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance’.

‘The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.’

‘As we grow older
the world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.’

Extracts – The Four Quartets – T S Eliot

Music: Trio Mediaeval & Purcell 

Choreography – Caroline Lamb

Rehearsal Director – Janet Fieldsend

Performers – Caroline Bunce, Janet Fieldsend, Belinda Neave, Ri Richards, Shirley Stansfield

Photography: Roy Campbell-Moore & Stella Grace Lyons

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