The Master ★★★★

One day I'm going to become a drama teacher at a prestigious private high school and I'm going to wake up everyday from my perfectly cleaned white linens and put on my pastel blue, peach, coral jumpers and checked shirts and knee length polyester skirts in a range of grey and black shades with my hair in a milkmaid influenced twisted bun behind my head, minimal makeup required, and I'll walk to work every morning an hour early and sit and sip chamomile or perhaps mint tea at my desk as I read the New York Times waiting for the day to officially start and when my students finally shuffle in on the first day of the term, their feet scraping the wooden floor, manoeuvring the dust in all sorts of patterns leading up to their seats, I'll stare at them individually in silence, scanning the room making subtle eye contact with each one before rising from behind my desk, stepping out in front of it, and opening my pursed mouth to ask "what is acting?" with one hand flung in the air with a rhetoric mist, and then I'll scan their faces once more to collect the differing levels of confusion, anticipation and misunderstanding before finally moving over to the dvd player and sliding in a copy of this film, and then the year can begin.

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