High noon. In the woods, under the spring Sun obscured by clouds, a coven of women danced in a trance. They screamed and moaned, exposed their pendulous undulating breasts to the eyes of their arcane Gods.
Yet, hidden in the bushes, on a pile of stripped robes, lay an unwelcome guest with a smartphone in his hand. He recorded their invocations and captured images of their grotesque choreography just as a lepidopterist captures images of butterflies. His eyes were wide open, his ears rang with their sacred chant.
In his memory we reassembled the footage into a documentary of the events.