Etienne (no.19)
by Sherry Steiner


Painting rectangles in the sky there goes Pierre in his beret fidgeting while Etienne's train pulls into the station. He has arrived to document Pierre's brush in hand, his prestige performance as he dangles from a helicopter making shapes between clouds. A cool breeze, compositional elements, an artificial editorial exercises the patience of them both. To dwell on naturalistic horrors is a process that is a time waster, a local tradition and the last consideration. Film critics that are not homemakers tend to overlook the blunt imagery, the forced color fields and blue overtones. Such is the place where three-fifths of the time confusion rains and everyone gets wet. Etienne takes into account his low-interest bearing account—enter Jules.

Long lost cousin five times removed from Pierre who is in Bolivia but nonetheless would have welcomed him with open arms had he been there and not so involved with thinking he was in a Western. Etienne figured that the next best thing to a film from France might be Jules so he watched him like a hawk from an outdoor cafe.

Jules sipping cappuccino, Jules tasting a chocolate biscuit.

Freeze the frame.

Jules patting his lips with a napkin. Jules paying his bill.

Stop action.

Stop Jules.

Stop Etienne.

Stop.

Jody Plant
 

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