It is unlike real life. Unlike wind sawing branches in the night.
Unlike a fistfight blood snot cries of pain rage horses pounding down the street to alert the unsuspecting populace. If I may be so bold, it is more urgent than that.
It’s a mirror above a pool of water. It’s an infinity wall.
Nothing is as fascinating as a face in close-up. You catch a glimpse and it’s like your tongue in a socket. Laughter passes through the crowd. Behind you a ripple of curtains, then slack again.
Feet thundering in the aisle. A raised hand, a cough, a bouncing knee. The attractive woman in the front row beaming. Your face in the monitor a stranger’s face. Bewildered. Ten pounds too puffy. Then it is you again.
Never forget the influence of this moment — the impact, the bandwidth. It is of greater magnitude than anything you have broadcast so far and ever will. You must thank the audience for the honor of their attention.
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