Projectionist There is nothing that I cannot show you, no face nor body, hour of any day, no place too far or strange for me to reveal among the permutations of my light, penumbras, focus and the turning reel. Though we will never meet, I will know you when you settle in your seat and the fugitives hide and a green car idles in an alleyway; while always I in my Plutonic dark-- unknown, unknowingly beloved--work lavishly my magic with my lamp and lens and spool. Look, the lovers linger on a hushed side street. Look, the enemy camp. And here you are, rushing between my fingers.
Projectionist.
Frank, Patrick Ryan
Projectionist There is nothing that I cannot show you, no face nor body, hour of any day, no place too far or strange for me to reveal among the permutations of my light, penumbras, focus and the turning reel. Though we will never meet, I will know you when you settle in your seat and the fugitives hide and a green car idles in an alleyway; while always I in my Plutonic dark-- unknown, unknowingly beloved--work lavishly my magic with my lamp and lens and spool. Look, the lovers linger on a hushed side street. Look, the enemy camp. And here you are, rushing between my fingers.