Each of the Christina episodes leaves behind a curious sense of baffled expectation which does not lie in a faulty conception of them, but, I verily believe, in the summariness of the treatment. I don't mean lack of vigour.
You cross under the rusting stanchions of the old elevated highway and walk out to the pier.
Let the lewd with faith and fervour worship. With will will we withstand, withsay.
The autophiles hang around a big, fluorescent-lighted garage with cars on cinder blocks, ostensibly in competition for a job, and they talk to the camera in between sessions at the sander or other machines.
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