Peter

Male | 40s | 3 to 5 minutes
Starts on page 3

EXTRACT: Get this, he works half the year shooting Milan, Paris, you name it and the rest of the year – get this – the rest of the year he lives on a little – you know – hobby farm somewhere in fuckin, fuckin Slovenia, man. I don’t even know. Somewhere cold. And he photographs – get this – photographs snowflakes. Not all falling but individual snowflakes on a black background. Only seconds to get it then it’s gone. He says it’s like shooting a Cathedral – one that no one’s seen – just before the bulldozers crash through the wall.

Peter

Male | 40s | 3 to 5 minutes
Starts on page 11

EXTRACT: She’s not wearing makeup and after a whole day of watching those tongues lick those lipsticked mouths, its like she’s got no mouth at all. Her face is just a blur smoking a cigarette. She’s looking out over the oval and the sprinklers are on, singing that song that sprinklers sing: ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch. She’s goes “Your cock’s hanging out, love.” And I’m like “Yeah. It is.” “You gonna put that away?” “Nah. Don’t reckon.”

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