Martha: Truth or illusion, George; you don’t know the difference.
George: No, but we must carry on as though we did.
Martha: Amen.– Who’s Afraid of Virgina Woolf?
Traffic lights, all red. Chance obstacles. A cop car blaring its sirens as it cuts diagonally across the screen under a bleak dawn sky.
trust not the eye; make of your meat an imaging device 