Though she knew she was on camera, she had no idea how long this moment would last, what it would one day be used for. She had no idea how long this media would survive, how long it would be till the tape broke down, nor how quickly the media would be off the cutting edge; how long it would sit in cardboard box untouched, and who would stumble upon so long from now. What they would think in the moment they found it. She had no idea how the future would turn and twist her so differently then it had up till now, in this moment. She knew only that the camera was on, and it worried her little. She was drunk, and though she heard cursing in the distance, slamming car doors and pacing footsteps, she was totally self absorbed, transformed by the moment which she relished in. She was no starlet - this is for certain - the camera meant very little to her, though she still performed, her actions exaggerated, her speech transformed, completely unaware that someday it would be so apparent. It was a long time too, that box was full of tape, long defunct before rediscovery. She would hardly know herself, nor the person on the other side, nor the camera's eye. Every moment in between then and now was completely out of site - there wasn't need for it - this moment, this utterly un-representational moment, was as much as he, or anyone else upon this removed viewing, could say about the girl. All she was was a strand of defunct tape, a drunken incoherent incident, a blemish upon her own idea of herself, preserved with her foreknowledge but presumed nonchalance - an instance quite reasonably forgotten but preserved nonetheless.