All the clocks say something different. The TV gives me a different time and the cellphone and the generator at the institute next door that's usually turned off at half past five in the morning was still running at what my wrist watch says is a quarter past six.
I call 174.
Samay hai. Aaru gantala. Forty-nine minutes. Bees second.
I'm thinking of those three women sitting in some studio recording the day in ten second packets, covering twenty four hours. How long did it take them? How many takes? Are they even alive?
My computer says I still have 15 hours of the day left before I can decently pack it away.
Oh god.
6 comments:
They say in three different languages simultaneously now?
The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,/ That ever I was born to set it right!
You actually got a response from 174? I'm impressed...
??!: one after the other, actually. creative license.
smoke screen: well, since it's pre-recorded, yeah. but i know what you mean - a couple of years ago there used to be blank silence. most disconcerting. made you think deep thoughts about Time and all.
How do those women take bathroom breaks? 10-second intervals?
It's always women isn't it? This whole recorded voice thing is so sexist.
km: heh!
falsie: ah, but the recordist is very likely a male. huh.
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