I found a TV on the street. Face down. Cord cut. Bending knees, I squatted down and embraced it in my arms. I took it home. Washed it. Carefully removed its shell, avoiding the lethal high voltage shock.
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How deep the sadness scans and scratches. Screaming unheard, and unfired within a choked, dim, and dusty electron gun prison. That beam of potentia. Electro-life. Hulking machines one day extinguished, never to spark again. And then, this tragically abandoned display technology will be lost to the world; forevermore.
Enough of that inevitable grim reality that shall come to pass. There is yet time to savour the final warming embers of this fire. To cherish, and revere! These living museum pieces.
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