VHS Review, Sesame Street 3 Stories
This is an 80’s tape cassette of three fictional stories from Sesame Street with relatively still frames of fantastic adventures. Of course, just because I have the same ideas as somebody else doesn’t mean that I have the same quality of speech. In particular, there’s my reality against the still-frame cartoons which invite spiritual contemplation. There’s mine against somebody else’s. Who can be opposed to the Great Cookie Thief when a mother carries a VHS tape in a basket for somewhere within the nation, or still from confusion during the epic lies of Big Bird as he arrives in my living room with a frozen mouth? I’m talking exaggerated childhood, something as warm as ice. Whether we can’t we see pictures between gingersnap talks or a broken violet for a green grouch is beyond estimation because my life revolved around an old desert where a screen missing virtual reality pardoned my appetite. How can I be such a terrible guess for an intruding bird near the country worm’s apple before pulling cheese from the cupboard, watching YouTube for streaming features, or digging up VHS tapes out of the fossils in my garage? I’ll tell you why: it’s because a video presentation on VHS can resemble a mirage, one with vague stability and roaring tape, that convolutes poetry until some philosophy is no longer in the air. That’s a vacuum. It’s basically eighties with these three stories; each tale acts as a book with consumed voices so surreal cartoons are only conceptualized at a given timeframe. Quite possibly I’m on a limb here when I say that Big Bird’s feathers cross into the wind with his sparkled intelligence and that Little Bird may confess so much important criticism on Big Bird’s lovely misinformation. Upon this very moment, I wash my lips with words that detail nostalgia to its provoking promises even as golf in front of me on television blurs into my mind like a song, strengthening my initial sensations I’ve carried across in big thoughts for garbage in New York and worried out of my staggering mind on positive wishes. You may guess what some of my wishes resemble on terms of analysis over the past’s advantages. Let’s mention the Great Cookie Thief. “He’s sure around any minute with a few of them gingersnaps.” Nostalgia leaves me with such a wrong quote from a long-nosed character that I forget about pleasure and hone in focus on destiny. As in, where to go, where’s Mr. Cooper, about a circus master’s stimulation on flying giraffes when Oscar loves broken materials and distinguished wrappers? Now, as it would’ve been always on passed occasions, a VHS tape occasionally sputters out imprinted tape after it gets a start in a warm machine that turns its wheels to create the illusion of moving reality. There’s still frames here promising answers to be given on forgotten memories as Washington returns the clothes.
No comments:
Post a Comment