The woman in the film drinks in a bar. She’s in hair curlers, a chiffon headscarf tied over them like a tarp over a log pile. The hollows of the curlers, spaces for hope: something good might happen. There was no sign of Sandro. I watched the film to keep myself awake while I waited. A man bought the woman a beer. She took dainty sips in her hair curlers, in preparation for no specific occasion. Curler time seemed almost religious, a waiting that was more important than what the waiting was for. Curler time was about living the now with a belief that a future, an occasion for set hair, existed.
— From The Flamethrowers by Rachel Kushner