Narration
One. Exterior.Cathedral. Daylight. Establishing it's beauty in elevation, stainglass and stone carvings. From its huge doors suddenly comes aflow of white cloud choir boys. Angelic, white surplussed, allbobbing in a disciplined stream. But then, suddenly in theirmidst, startling, ridiculous, incongruous is Martin a young manin an ill fitting rain coat. As the boys proceed in their orderlyway, Martin is left alone. Peculiar, disturbing. Which one...which one will it be?
Two. Interior. An office near the Cathedral. Daylight. A view ofthe Cathedral through the window. Alone, in this Dickensianoffice above the small printing presses, sits Mr. Bates, middleaged, meticulous, writing with a gold barreled fountain pen. He'sfinishing a little verse beneath a picture of an angel:
Although we all must sometimes stumble
As we journey through this life,
I've never heard you moan or grumble,
The perfect mother and wife.
Bates places the sheet of paper on top of a pile of similarsheets, his face heavy with contempt. He stares into the middledistance. A framed photograph of a lively, attractive youngwoman, Patty, his daughter, is in front of him, on his expanse ofdesk. He glances at it. He caps his fountain pen, neatly puts thesheet into the pending tray, neatly lines up his blotter, hisdesk aids, and satisfied, rises to join the homeward throng.
Three. Exterior. Cathedral precincts. Fading daylight. A fewpeople bobbing along with the anomalous, near vacant, tiredexpression of home-goers. Which one... which one will it be?
