Miniature Matinee

A mounted film slide was lying face-down on the warm oak of the living room sill, its cardboard frame curled slightly under the midday glare. Curious to see what was trapped inside the dark negative, I braced both hands against the stiff paper rim and tilted it upright against the base of a small brass mister. Held against the direct wash of light, the dense film instantly came alive: an empty auditorium, rows of crimson velvet seats descending toward an illuminated stage. I slid an ivory receipt card behind it at a slight angle to catch the projection, watching the tiny theater cast a clear red square across the paper. It is surprisingly agreeable to hold an entire stage in one's hand.