Cotton-ball-cheese and the BMI of creativity
Tom and I have been (in some occasions even jointly) living in creative yet social environments for quite some time now. One might even state that we are little experts on the subject.
Yes, always working hard and building up the latest promising project, we also ceased the opportunity to watch strange Asian and Russian cinema, listen to music about all trees in the forest and eating miles of cotton-ball-cheese from a jar. It was quite the life.
Now, ladies and gentleman, having traveled forth and back from the likes of USA, Rijswijk, Panama, Delft, Vienna, Laren and London, we know (in some occasions even jointly) that the Body Mass Index of creativity could not be more decadently established than Rotterdam – main port of Europe and city of Bokito.
And lord knows that I have still failed to mention the rise and levitation of Richard. Not many men of his kind are born around these territories, enabling unperturbed mothers to let their daughters go out and play. Soothing for some, frustrating for others, since his ingenious presence could fill up all our rooms and create for a new golden age of intellectual prosperity.
In other words, let the finest of the finest join hands and CREATE. Like they say in France: ‘Arbeit macht frei‘, and I couldn’t agree more with those friendly breadstick-eaters. I have been fiddling around in the fields of digital filmmaking and my small (not medium) enterprise is celebrating its tenth birthday this year. Would it be less than awe-inspiring if I could provide for some of my modest sauce, and be able to work together with the finest craftsmen. I have no other option than to say YES and pre-order piles of breadsticks and cotton-ball-cheese.
Count me in!
Remy