"Stardust was falling like atoms on the earth, and here we are, we small earthlings in the cosmic rain, beautiful clowns, beautiful genes. Then the grand small babble of our desirings, how the rivers rise to the sky and are so hopeful, so damn tender.

We are the tender most beings in our last moments on earth. To make it last is the thing. To be stardust walking in the forest. To be in the joyful blues, you and me and us.

To be in long time, in the short time we have.

I would sail the big green waters and watch the blue-sky curve.

If I came as the strange earthling to where I am, I might feel this strange gratitude. This strange high we feel that we call surreal, which could be our true karma. Our true anima. I might feel the uncanny sky, marrying me at dusk when the gold marries the blue, and the rivers flow as if we had the power we feel in dreamy times, walking. I might stretch out with all the stars, my blanket, with all the feeling that I have a body, that I have eyes. There is no prize, only being.

We are here to prepare for that one long day, and this could be the night before, when we were earthlings together, such canny clowns, such idiots of love. Smoke before the rain on a clear night that lasted only part of forever. I would love, on my one last night, on my one given night, to be in the cosmos, truly.

To be in the rain, to feel the amen shower on my face.
To know that I was brief, that I was here. To know that I could make one night last forever.”

Author Susan Perly

In the latter days of the pandemic, I watched hours of YouTube videos viewing life in the most remote regions of the planet, and curious about each individual sorting through the daily lives. I pondered a film which unveiled the far reaches of the world, reassuring us that we are not alone.

In the dimmed embrace of the theatre, I found myself entranced, gazing upon the vast expanse of a 70-millimetre screen, an unfolding portal to the world. There, in the celluloid tapestry, Baraka, a cinematic masterpiece born in 1992, unfolded its narrative—an absorbing compilation of natural wonders, life’s intricate dance, human endeavours, and the symphony of technological phenomena.

Captured through lenses which traversed 20 countries on six continents over a mesmerizing span of 14 months, Baraka laid bare the tapestry of humanity. A cinematic odyssey uncovered the raw beauty of our planet, displaying its diverse landscapes, cultures, and the interconnected dance of life uniting us all.

As the scenes seamlessly transitioned from one corner of the globe to another, the film became a living canvas of Earth’s wonders. Baraka's visual poem beautifully captured the essence of our shared existence.
In the reflective glow of the screen, the film’s lens captured the intricate choreography of nature’s forces, from the grandeur of towering mountains to the delicate dance of a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. It explored the heartbeat of human societies, displaying their rituals, expressions, and the wide range of emotions that shape our shared experience.

The technological tapestry woven into Baraka added another layer to this visual odyssey. Ancient landscapes and traditions provided a backdrop, emphasizing the ingenuity and impact of human innovation. The juxtaposition of ancient and modern, natural and technological, painted a portrait of humanity’s relentless march through time.
Like a symphony of images, Baraka transcended traditional documentary norms, embracing the essence of humanity in its purest form. It communicated the universal language of visuals, surpassing linguistic barriers to narrate a story deeply connected with the fundamental notes of our collective existence.

In that specific theatre, gazing at the expansive 70-millimetre canvas, I was not just a spectator—I was a traveller on a visual pilgrimage, a witness to the profound beauty and complexity that defines our world. Baraka, like the pages of a National Geographic exploration, unravelled a visual narrative that celebrated the diverse tapestry of life, inviting us to contemplate our position in the magnificent mosaic of existence. Baraka is now on 8K.

Life to me is improvised. We may repeat ourselves, but never with the same tone or actions. Subtle changes. A Night on Earth is my ode to us as we look back at the star-lit heavens and imagine the possibilities of life elsewhere and our unfolding dilemma on earth. The music comes without inhibition or restrictions. The story writes itself.

Bill King
Composer/Recording Engineer, Keyboards
The Station House.
2024
Night Passage Music