Foreword
If this were a movie, the script would read something like this;
Opening set, empty playground. A haunting string melody scrapes the audio track. Lazy pan in to see a male teenager sitting on the swings. The Sun washes the ground in a surreal burnt orange haze. The youth is hunched over, his right arm reaching up to grasp the chain half heartedly. His head is down and shoulders hunched. The light plays across his back but doesn’t seem to completely alleviate the shadows on his face.
