- What of the true god... to whose glory churches and monasteries have been built on these islands for generations past. Now sir, what of him?
- He's dead... and he can't complain. He had his chance, and in modern parlance: blew it.
We touched shore at dawn on Mayday. The coast was striking, with it's palm trees and blooming flowers. It could have been an island of the Mediterranean. A horse (...) was waiting for us at the docks, in order to take us to the Lord's castle. We had been invited by him. Upon arriving, he hugged his boat, and kissed us on both cheeks, smiling. In silence I cried, for I had found my father after 27 years. We rested on soft couches, and ate the fruit for which the island is famous.
At midday we travelled to town, for the day's celebrations. I was particularly intrigued by the boys (...) surrounding the Maypoles. And the girls (...) had brought (...) for all to wear. Everyone seemed to be smiling, and generally happy to celebrate their gods, that elsewhere had been forgotten.
The communion lunch was surprising. I had never seen so many brown baby cakes (...) all (...) in the form of a (...) Everybody was happy was happy to share. And we ate giant and plenty, while the Lord and some of the youth delighted us with (...)
In the afternoon the procession a**embled. Everybody from the youngest child to the oldest (...) was wearing masks that resembled every animal created by the gods. Wolves, fish, cats, horses. I was handed the fox once, and followed the hobby horse. Punch and the Lord (...) We offered beer to the gods of the sea and later slaughered lambs in honour of the goddess of the orchards.
Later that night, after having danced around the bonfires, and after having spoken to the old villagers about petty things, we decided after all that the Lord had been right, and that home have a new name, and that (...) were no more in this place we call home. And this home is called Summerisle.
From The Wicker Man (1973)
- He's dead... and he can't complain. He had his chance, and in modern parlance: blew it.
We touched shore at dawn on Mayday. The coast was striking, with it's palm trees and blooming flowers. It could have been an island of the Mediterranean. A horse (...) was waiting for us at the docks, in order to take us to the Lord's castle. We had been invited by him. Upon arriving, he hugged his boat, and kissed us on both cheeks, smiling. In silence I cried, for I had found my father after 27 years. We rested on soft couches, and ate the fruit for which the island is famous.
At midday we travelled to town, for the day's celebrations. I was particularly intrigued by the boys (...) surrounding the Maypoles. And the girls (...) had brought (...) for all to wear. Everyone seemed to be smiling, and generally happy to celebrate their gods, that elsewhere had been forgotten.
The communion lunch was surprising. I had never seen so many brown baby cakes (...) all (...) in the form of a (...) Everybody was happy was happy to share. And we ate giant and plenty, while the Lord and some of the youth delighted us with (...)
In the afternoon the procession a**embled. Everybody from the youngest child to the oldest (...) was wearing masks that resembled every animal created by the gods. Wolves, fish, cats, horses. I was handed the fox once, and followed the hobby horse. Punch and the Lord (...) We offered beer to the gods of the sea and later slaughered lambs in honour of the goddess of the orchards.
Later that night, after having danced around the bonfires, and after having spoken to the old villagers about petty things, we decided after all that the Lord had been right, and that home have a new name, and that (...) were no more in this place we call home. And this home is called Summerisle.
From The Wicker Man (1973)