He began to tune the TV like a radio, not for channels but for moments. The antenna seemed to respond to his moods. On nights he was lonely, it fed him gentle, domestic scenes: someone kneading dough, a child composing a paper airplane, an old woman sewing a map into a coat. When he was restless, the screen rewarded him with restless things: a motorbike on a mountain pass, a bus screeching through a flooded street, a midnight market where vendors bartered under string lights.
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