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I'm worried about the television...

I'm worried about the television. Its images, ultimately, are distorted. The faces are stretched until they're weird, or they shrink, or they shimmer out of focus and then turn into a monstrous game of invented faces, beams, lights and shadows, as in a nightmare. The words are perfectly distinct and the music and the sound effects, but they don't correspond to any reality. They're delayed, or they're too early, superimposed on the features that appear to be there.

I'm told that a repair man could fix it in two or three days, but I'm against that. I don't want violence. They'd put their hands inside there, take it apart, stick sinister things into it, risky transplants that might not take. I would never be itself again.

I really hope it gets over this. Because now it has a terrible temperature, a headache, awful nausea, which give it the dreams that we're watching.

Translated by W. S. Merwin
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