The cutter sits alone in the darkened room her sharp eyes reflecting flickering images that stop move again stop rewind to identical moments from alternate angles choosing perspective choosing focus finding the rhythm of word and gesture altering sequence to bring order and meaning to fragmented moments from fragmentary lives The stories have no beginnings no ends only incoherent middles until the cutter marks the cutter cuts the cutter strings it in order all together the walking shadow puppet players speaking lines that signify nothing is finished nothing is real nothing makes sense until the cutter cuts