unlikely to be |
Well, it’s night-time.
There is no light in the cow shed, and no one
working at this time either.
Just Christoff and his mate, leaning
against the tractor in the darkness; the glow of their cigarettes the only
thing showing that they are there.
.
The field is dark; darker than the night
should be, but there are no stars.
The moon is elsewhere.
A faint band of light beckons from between
the trees on the other side of this meadow, full with the growth of mid October
grass.
You can cross; the cows are asleep.
The light comes from a building, newly
there.
Plywood and plastic.
Long.
The door is set in the side.
A dog follows.
You enter.
The dog stays outside.
There are four women at one end of the
room.
They are dressed in shorts that were
popular in the fifties, but the women are young.
They hardly touch twenty.
The only light comes from a lamp on a small
table and the screen of a computer where someone controls the music.
For the women are dancing.
Or they are spinning.
They are good at spinning.
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