(no subject)
[The images of New York continue shifting, focusing on the old style of dress, on the cobblestone streets, on the old style buildings and impoverished people and crowded markets and all the other things that make up Jack's childhood. On a second shake, however, things begin to get a bit more personal. First, a sign:]
[The snowglobe focuses on that for a few moments before slipping into the building, showing the backstage of a theater, a glowing stage, a dressing room-- and finally, a woman in her early thirties, singing on stage.]
[Another shake, and the scene shifts again, this time to a small, cramped apartment. It is small enough that there is a bed in the corner of the kitchen; that the five people sitting at the table are bumping elbows, nearly too big for the apartment. Nonetheless they seem happy enough, talking among themselves.
The scene shifts. A crowded room, packed with twenty bunk beds and twice the number of boys lying in them. They're laughing, joking, roughhousing among themselves as they get ready for work in the morning.
The snowglobe shifts for the fourth and final time, this time to a rooftop thick within New York city. It's sunset. The sky is red and flaming, though pollution makes it rather hard to see the sun at all. The view is high enough one can see the rooftops stretching out to the horizon line, chimneys releasing smoke, laundry hung out to dry, candle lights in windows being lit as the sunlight fades. If one squints, one can even imagine they see farther than that, beyond the stinking impoverished city, far out to a better horizon, where the sky is blue and the grass is green--
--but then the globe goes grey and cloudy and blank once again.]