o8 - video
[the video starts, showing the street below from a bird's eye view from over a fire escape's hand rail, a couple of stories up from the ground, wisps of smoke crossing the feed from somewhere off-screen. It focuses on nothing in particular, but it is clear that people are running on the street with soft, white nets in hand, shouting and pointing at what seems to be little, colorful specs that went in and out of focus.
A butterfly chase.
The scene goes on for ten minutes, as if the person recording had forgotten it was on in the first place, a steady vantage point as people ran across the screen, in sight and out of it, screams of delight and shouts of frustration echoing in the air, all the revelry involved in a merry chase.
Then, the video shifts to the left.
A red butterfly glides close, and a pale hand comes into view, the index finger outstretched. The butterfly alights for a moment on the offered perch. A quiet breath is heard from the background, and the video zooms in a little on the insect, focusing on the patterns on its wings and the brilliance of its color. After a few seconds later, the butterfly takes off again, and the camera jolts before tracking its progress past the rail and out of sight.
There is a quiet sigh, followed after a long pause by a wry chuckle, before the camera is returned to its perch on the rail, no longer as focused on the street as it was earlier but at a peculiar angle.]
I suppose... this doesn't do anything good, does it.
Perhaps I'll go to that market on Friday. The food you cook tastes its best when the ingredients you use have been well cared for.
[the feed shuts off.]
A butterfly chase.
The scene goes on for ten minutes, as if the person recording had forgotten it was on in the first place, a steady vantage point as people ran across the screen, in sight and out of it, screams of delight and shouts of frustration echoing in the air, all the revelry involved in a merry chase.
Then, the video shifts to the left.
A red butterfly glides close, and a pale hand comes into view, the index finger outstretched. The butterfly alights for a moment on the offered perch. A quiet breath is heard from the background, and the video zooms in a little on the insect, focusing on the patterns on its wings and the brilliance of its color. After a few seconds later, the butterfly takes off again, and the camera jolts before tracking its progress past the rail and out of sight.
There is a quiet sigh, followed after a long pause by a wry chuckle, before the camera is returned to its perch on the rail, no longer as focused on the street as it was earlier but at a peculiar angle.]
I suppose... this doesn't do anything good, does it.
Perhaps I'll go to that market on Friday. The food you cook tastes its best when the ingredients you use have been well cared for.
[the feed shuts off.]