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37 SPLit SCReen In the split-screen view of a woman in a chair in her upstairs bedroom, in one pane she sits with her legs crossed staring at her sandaled foot, a tumbler of pink lemonade held and resting on her knee, and she studies the color of the polish painted on her toes, thinking it suits her and goes with just about anything. In the other pane, she is throwing the glass across the room, thinking about someone’s online habits and shrinking desire for real-life intimacies, enjoying the visual of it being hurled, then smashing into a framed broadside of a love poem hanging over the bed. It’s just a moment that passes. The two screens merge. One of her walks downstairs. ...

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