Parallel Universe
I sit on my studio chair surrounded by my paintings. Paints mixed, brushes stand on end, blank canvas waiting in the wings
“That blue is different and you’ve moved that brush!” Someone reprimands me. Startled I look up and realise what I have done
Sets get dressed, sound gets checked, lights get set. Actors learn lines made up
Day becomes night, late afternoon and lunch is served, night becomes day
Lap-tops flicker. A pathway is formed through the baggage, bodies drape furniture
A hushed crew focuses on their part of the story
Camera rolling … magic could happen
“Talk about art imitating life” comments Foxie
It’s a wrap. Last train home … again. Why are the streets so empty?
“Welcome to Barryworld” says Barry
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