It's a tangible, physical, fully realized public square in which real people stare at things made by other people.
The real Thomas Cromwell stares out of a portrait by Holbein, stern, venal and implacable.
Something you guys can do, by tweaking me digitally, to make it look real?" He stared at Kurt Williams, who nodded vigorously, not wishing to disappoint.
The real Kate Moss stares out from a photograph on the wall; she wears one of Jones' creations: a bronze glittery body-suit with no back, which transforms her idealised waif-like form into one of bionic pornography.
He asked her if her "boobs were real" and stared at her chest while they were talking between meetings at a business conference.
Dwight Cleveland, a 48-year-old Chicago real estate developer, stares intently as a dry-cleaning squeegee steams the outermost poster from an old movie theater display board he picked up from an antiques dealer in Duluth, Minnesota.
Three Suits of Armor For 23 years Leonard N. Stern, a real estate billionaire, had stared at a blank sculpture niche in the lobby of his headquarters at 667 Madison Avenue, at 61st Street.
But the film itself, a slam-bang account of the hunt for weapons of mass destruction, has the same problem as nearly every other Hollywood gloss on recent political events: it refuses to stare real tragedy in the face, preferring the comforts of a "Bush lied, people died" reductionism.
Such, we are told, is the new Paul Greengrass/Matt Damon action film The Green Zone, which, per Douthat, "refuses to stare real tragedy in the face, preferring the comforts of a 'Bush lied, people died' reductionism".
You, whose most successful attempt at haggling was knocking £5 a month off a handset you didn't want anyway that one time you wandered into a Carphone Warehouse by mistake, have to believe that you could stare Real Madrid's top executives in the eye and high-ball them over your prodigal wunderkind.
