Original text for recent dance film by Louvelle Dance, which will be shown at the Cornish film festival in the experimental film section.
Because she had gone and eaten the apple, our father said she needed to wash herself from head to toe, as there wasn’t room for people who were dirty, like the animals who roamed outside in our neat, tidy and shiny house.
Our father, well he was a stickler for cleanliness!
In his bed I let his serpent enter me, but in his eyes my body, my breasts, arms, fingers, neck, stomach, mouth, legs and behind where tainted and used, the sheen of the new had gone and like that I was second-hand and rusty in his eyes.
Her breasts were like apples, ready to be eaten, calling him to become corrupted by their consumption, asking to be polished up!
The apple in his mother’s eye, it was always there, twinkling, mocking, beckoning and taking her away.
text by Emma Louvelle