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00:01:03 – 00:01:07

How big is this box on the inside? Maybe we are not looking at the inside of the box still. Maybe we are looking at a tabletop or desktop. The sides of the box are nowhere to be seen. There is only a vast wooden plain, littered with random items: a lip gloss (or toenail polish?) bottle from the sixties or early seventies, I’m guessing (it’s the kind my mom used to carry around), some of those supertiny safety pins, a couple of caplet-shaped pills, placed side by side like astronauts in suspended animation, a quarter, two housekeys, a metallic plastic “Happy Birthday” pin larger than the rest of the stuff. These items come into variously into view (I have listed them in no particular order, though I should probably take the time to enumerate them in the order in which they first appear — ah well; I am lazy) as the camera moves slowly from the right to the left (or is it from the left to the right? I am not a certified cinema critic, or even cinemaphile, so I don’t know the terminology, which side of the viewfinder I’m supposed to use: the camera moves slowly from, um, stage left to stage right. Right?)

The gloved hand, chicken-hawk-like, swoops down and snatches up five things: a quarter, some unknown thing (possibly another quarter?) hidden behind the “Happy Birthday” pin (the hand touches the “Happy Birthday” pin as it picks up this unknown thing, calling it, the pin, more fully to our attention), two housekeys (the first housekey is offscreen to our right when the hand picks it up, but we know what it is because the camera showed it to us earlier before it moved all the way over here) and, finally, the “Happy Birthday” pin itself. All of this more quickly, of course, than the previous sentence can be read: snatch, snatch snatch, snatch, snatch. The music continues to whine.