The Potted Psalm

A soundless mix of story fragments and images. Initially, images of death, a man with a guitar, a soiree. Some images are surreal: an older woman eats a leaf; a headless man pours a cocktail into his body. A woman in white walks toward a building, isolated and in ruins, where a man waits. Then more images, some in reflections, some distorted, many in close-ups: women's feet in high heels, two bare feet at play, a snail, a knife, a mask, a woman mugging next to it. Women provocatively dance. A woman's face, staring without affect, rises partially out of water. Now wearing a dark jacket, the woman in white runs as if for her life. Is death at hand, or just images?