The aerials

When he heard that the BBC television service was broadcasting each month in 1935 a piano recital by Catherine de Sélys, Oskar Serti just had to get hold of a receiving set at once.
Unfortunately, the quality of the pictures proved especially disappointing: either Catherine's image became lost in a thick fog, or it could not be steadied.
Despite the fact that this was before aerials were completely insulated from the electricity, Serti never had any hesitation in playing around with them to prevent Catherine from getting away from him. Without quite admitting as much to himself, he even got quite a kick out of grappling with those metal arms which brought Catherine back into his view at every turn.
One July evening, Serti suddenly experienced a moment of grace which had him shaking from head to foot: Catherine's gossamer music filled the room, her picture endlessly faded on the screen, but most of all, with his fingers clasping the aerial, he felt he was at last touching her soul.
When the recital was over, Serti was unable to take his hands off the aerial; only now, through the curvaceous rods twisted by his emotion, it was Catherine's body that he was stroking furiously before the blurred gaze of the presenter announcing whatever was coming up next.