Thirsty

its was 7.15pm. I was palpitating. I had to reach back home. There was something about these meetings that I liked. and there was something about it that used to make me very nervous. I knew I had the ideas,. I knew exactly what to say. I was not afraid of those sitting around me. It was the same place where i had tried the fish. Loved it to death and decided not to have it ever again. It was the place where someone could not stop taking pictures of me and a place where I would sit and take photos of the endless stories around me.

Here I was discussing this story. A new story. How easy was it to weave it for someone else. I did not have to do anything. I would sit back and visualise. Wish someone could do that for me. It's very easy to take someone's confused ideas and put them in place. But mine seem a bucket of grease.

Making films, shooting, editing ... sitting with a group of crazy people and making things happen was something I was good at. What happened? Looking at pages of script and coming up with a plan to market meant sitting with a cup of coffee and writing a 40 page document. Too easy...

These days, it's waking up in the middle of the night, panting, thirsty, a bunch of photos and a lonely lamp burning to keep the spirit alive.