Controlling Box of Lights

A typhoon exits the TV, bringing in another victim. From the top of a typhoon. The wind spirals, the lights flicker, the curtains draw in. Whilst the man claws the TV in his “final” scene, as the violent green wind spirals him inwards. leaving markings, on his box, shattering him, morphing him into a two-dimensional sitcom.

Living his dream...blood dripping from the eyes of countless hours watching the lighting flicker....

- as the cast surrounds...

all souls taken, exchanged.

they must laugh, at him their lines say so.

while frowns hit the cast’s faces.

The hydraulics now run the man—the production.