The Sense of Fiction

There is a videotape I watch at night. The ex-husband made it when he was my husband. It was made when Susan had first get in to us and she seemed to be e precisewhere, sharing everything, offering, offering. I see the queue uper swing across the wide lawn, champion of those panning shots you always find in movies, where the idea is to get everybody in the audience devise for what will be revealed. I see Tony watching Susan and oddity how I could have been so stupid to believe that we were victuals in the same story. The conundrum with the tape is that it only shows what I was looking at. Was Tony watching Suzie? I try not to snap things personally. I suppose there are many things one should try not to take personally. Bad weather, a profession jam, a husband who finds that he loves someone else.




So this is me braggart(a) you the panning shot, telling my audience to get ready for what will be revealed but only if everybody is very very good, and very very patient, and will wait, with perfect hope, for the make-believe story to unfold. Of course the problem is the camera; the problem is me. What was Tony really watching? What really happened to us?
On the last night of the marriage, my husband and I went to the cinema. I could not keep my attention on the film; instead, I watched him watch the film.

The first time it happened, it happened with the neighbours. They were the kind of couple who swore at dinner parties.If you want to get a full essay, rig it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com



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