Television Love

Love here is like a broken television - it flickers, hisses, and picks up a signal only when you least expect it. It seems that the picture is about to improve, but instead of warm light, there is interference and the background hum of electricity. And yet you don't turn it off. Because in these fragments, where the pain is dulled by ‘novocaine’ and feelings are spilled like coffee on the table, there is a strange consolation.

You seem to be alive, you seem to be going about your business - but suddenly the wet tiles are slippery with memories. Someone calls, someone is silent, and between you there is only the noise of the airwaves. Such is the tenderness of the post-digital era: love through a screen, where even silence has Wi-Fi.