A static frame displays a grassy knoll encircled by lofty trees; a father with outstretched arms, a flying disk hanging in midair, a teenage son readying for the catch. In the foreground; a little girl in pigtails, her hands held before her block stationary droplets of water, shaken from a shaggy-haired wet, still, quiescent dog. A voice-over with soothing feminine tones says, ‘buy more time’ and ably promises, ‘more time – to do the things in life that matter most’. 1-888-BUY-TIME.
This image, the number, a number with which long ago he had been completely fixated, had now become permanently burned onto his retina display as well as into his mind. All he had wanted was ‘more time’. Time to spend with his children; time to visit a park. More time to laugh, play and enjoy life. He had spent many long days working late into the night, working hard to afford such a luxury, because after all, ‘buying time’ isn’t cheap. Even so, the next offer was too good to pass up: ON SALE – ISOLATION.