One fine day, when I was but a lamb of only 16 years, I was sitting on a patch of government grass and contemplating the meaning of life, when it suddenly occurred to me that I wanted to be a type of artist. “… but not the painting type,” I thought dreamily to myself as pictures began to fill my mind and my eyes turned into spirals, “more the kind that captures the stories of people in all their eccentricities and depths…Yes… I see alien landscapes and futuristic cultures. I see advanced science and talking plants with very realistic back-stories. I see miracles and wonders that will help us all to believe in truth again…” I thought joyfully, as colours swirled before my puffy teenage face… “I see large craft tables with endless supplies of cheese Nik Naks and toasted cheese sandwiches. I see strange looking film people scurrying around, helping to implement the vision. I imagine writing scripts while gnawing on a chunk of chèvre, and looking at a mountain or a tree, or something. I see the redemption of mankind and the triumph of good over evil! I see the head of the serpent crushed by a monumental hero of divine proportions!…Yes indeed! Film! I must make ze films!” And then all of a sudden the vision ended, and the school bell rang, and I went inside.