I thought I would try to write a poem to represent the creative side to Touki-Bouki. I found the long, handheld shots on the abattoir scenes upsetting and tried to represent that with the refrain and the single long sentence. As I have said in a previous blog post, I am not a fan of writing, but I think it is good to test yourself.
The rope cuts in to his side as
He is laid on a brown, caked floor
And his wild eyes glint in
industrial lights as the men hold his head back
To reveal his sinuous grey neck
And hack with the unsharpened knife
To reveal the red muscular pipe
That moves and breathes
And gushes with a thick, viscous redness
As the rope cuts in to his side.