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I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
Like an echo in a rainy cavern.
Like throwing wet towels off a balcony in a medieval hilltop village.
Animals scuttle past. They push each other in the flanks.
It's like a war down there.
Bullocks on parched tundra.
Hans Zimmer adds strings for texture.
Think of it all in slow-mo.
I will.
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