It is true that I grow old here. Even without a mirror I can feel the cracks etched into my face, smell the odor of age in my skin. My eyes cloud over. Yet, I see with the sight of the Prophet. Is for space travel and fantasy.
True time is at the mercy of the unconscious mind.
Here we are at the home of Nydia Turbay. The TV swivels away from the audience and the same TV blue-white light shines down upon the Turbay family. The children are grown to adolescence. The adults aged and crooked. They are wearing black and white clothing and pale make-up.