This is a time of stories – of the history that is to present itself again in such a ridiculous dress; hip-hopping, tangoing, belly-dancing. We are to take our headphones off for a while and to really just listen to the silence and the noise of our existence through the stories of the Prophets – of the ones who warned and the ones who made their way out of a split sea, a whale, an arc, a cross. Of the Aztecs and the Mayan people who were astonished just as the people of the Indus Valley Civilisation by a hot wind and a crackling earth quake. The Earth, of course, of course, with the elephants that we have slaughtered and the dolphins we have killed. Of the bombs that we have dropped like lime scented bubbles pouring out of a running bath onto Yemen, onto Syria and Iraq, and especially Afghanistan for decades and decades – like a Beatles cassette still playing in Liverpool.