I am working on a short film script that I will direct soon. For the time being, nothing is waste, everything is valuable: the smile of the waitress in this coffee shop in Endell Street, extracts from that larkin poem still rhyming with this fragile embryo, or images of an earthquake in the other side of the world. what is this film? Words are essential; I need the right ones now. My script is an army and the words are soldiers. It’s April, I am in london, and my body demands something as trivial as sun – I don’t know how to live with little. I sigh for a beach close to home. Inside my bag a dV recording, made yesterday, full of unknown persons and landscapes – in any of the frames something unique can emerge. On tape every thing is a promise waiting to be edited – waste converted to value.
I order more coffee – can’t work without it – and try to anticipate how the script will be interpreted and reshaped by others. what is this film?