phone mess

I got a call from the Pratt people. They thought I was on the phone, but it was my voice mail. They forgot to hang up after and I could hear them discussing the lackluster selection of candidates they had for this position. They were also getting high and giggling a lot.

I was walking through some artist's studio while listening to the message. I walked into one studio/gallery with a piece of my father's work. It was a film he made when he was in Paris as a young man. It was so unlike his style. I wondered what was different about that time for him that he had created work like that.