Videoteenage Fabienne Today

You don’t know that. In twenty years, we’re going to be... like, historical. The tape glitches to black.

Her thumbs hovered. She typed: Yes.

She compiled the clips. No music. Just ambient sound: the hum of the hallway lights, the slap of water on the pool deck, the distant rumble of a lawnmower. She strung them together, a silent poem about the loneliness of being adored. She titled it Le Roi Soleil – The Sun King. videoteenage fabienne