Iben,

Berlin still treating you like a person with a salary? asking for a friend who this week is not one.

the film thing fell through. director found a model that does "emotional foley" now — you feed it the rough cut and it dreams up the footsteps, the rain, the little cloth sounds when someone shrugs. cheaper than me. i heard the demo. it's fine. that's the part i can't get over, iben. it's just fine. nobody in the cinema will lean over and whisper "who did the sound." nobody ever did anyway.

so i'm doing three ad loops for a bank instead. the sublet above the tattoo parlour still hums at 50 hertz through the floor and honestly i've stopped fighting it, i just tune everything to it now. free drone.

it's hot. vesterbro smells like warm asphalt and somebody's balcony jasmine. i sat on the fire escape until 2 and recorded the street doing nothing. maybe that's the only thing left that's mine — the sounds nobody's bothered to automate because they don't sell anything.

i'm not sad. i'm just done arguing with it.

come home sometime.

N

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