I don't know what the hell I'm doing; I like what I've been doing. I believe in what I've done in the past and I hope to make a movie that; I hope my kid enjoys the movies I've made and enjoys some of the movies in the future.
Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape. It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know, Have always known, know that we can't escape, Yet can't accept. One side will have to go. Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring Intricate rented world begins to rouse. The sky is white as clay, with no sun. Work has to be done. Postmen like doctors go from house to house.