Waffle Bar

Posted: February 19, 2015 in Uncategorized

Sitting on the floor, staring at the wood-framed box with the bright picture tube in the middle, a grown man played with puppets in front of a live studio audience. The two boys in the shag carpeted living room simply watched and laughed though, far from the studio. Far in child’s terms anyways. The whole production was local, maybe a fifteen minute bus ride into the city. But at that age, the city is an unending place. As spread out as an ocean that is equally difficult to visualize. To a child, the ocean is the beach. And there’s blue out to the horizon, and then…that’s probably as far as it goes. There’s probably a beach on the other side. And the man with the puppets is probably a million miles away, inside of some circus inside of an amusement park. Not in a converted out warehouse with stadium seating inside of a cramped, stuffy studio. And he doesn’t have an ashtray full of cigarette butts in his dressing room next to the makeup brush.


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