October 4, 2001





First, over BLACK, we hear the sound of a light rain.

Then:

                    A MAN'S VOICE
          I'm not a poet.  I've never moved
          anyone with my words.
              (beat)
          Maybe that's why they chose me.

EXT.  WOODS - DAY

A mural of leafless trees beneath an overcast sky.  Rain
continues to fall.

Maybe now we begin to notice a strange quality to the light
(or is it the sky?).  Something vaguely unsettling.