And one quiet line underneath it, which arrives on the first click so the room reads the title before it reads anything else.
One line under each, no more. The room is listening to you, not reading the wall.
A question is easier to hold in the head than a topic.
Say the limit out loud, early.
The last one is always the one they came for.
A drawn window can be pointed at, coloured to match the deck, and never goes blurry on the projector.
At the width it will still be when the other two are here.
The first card slides left. It does not shrink, and it does not blink into a new place.
Three is the most a room will hold. Four is a table, not a slide.
Not loop. It runs as the slide opens, ends, and stays where it ended.
Outermost first, then in. Four rings is the limit before the middle is unreadable.
A counting number earns two seconds of silence. Let it finish before you talk.
Strike the old sentence in front of them, then write the new one underneath. That is a thing happening, not a bullet point.
A quotation is set once, wiped in from the left, and left alone. No animation on the words themselves.
Not as a mood image behind a heading. The caption says who or what it is and the year.
One every five or six slides. Never two in a row.
Name, and where to find you.