Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Thousand: Seven Hundred Forty-Nine
dented by years of cat and point it at the screen that’s either no bigger than a postcard or fills the wall. The screen comes to life with two women arguing over a suitcase. One, screaming, seizes the other’s long auburn hair. With the press of a button you switch over to a long flat road across ice, a gigantic truck bearing down on you, a cloud of snow and dirt whirling up behind. Then a sporting event. Then a close-up of a whisk lifting peaks from white foam. Then daisies bowing gently as a piano tinkles in the background.