Chicago, USA.

The businessman listens aptly, his attention focused on every word out of my mouth.

"So, these beans... you say that they're magic?"

"Yes."

"Well how do I know that?"

"Look at them. Aren't they spectacular!?"

"I mean... they're ok...."

"You know... If you're not interested, I have people lined up for these around the corner."

"No! Wait! I'm very very serious about this opportunity! Yes! Um...What am I looking for exactly?"

"Observe the shine. Look at the natural texture. Can't you just feel their power? Ignore the tangible 'bean', concentrate on the intangible magical properties."

"They're amazing. I'll take five hundred."

"I only have three left. Don't worry. We can work something out."

God bless this wonderful economic circumstance we find ourselves in.

Toronto, Canada.

There's a curious social sphere surrounding film festivals.

A distinctively public and social festive environment dedicated entirely to celebrate the remarkably private and solitary activity of watching a bright screen in a dark room.

Common folk act like celebrities so that they can sneak into the private parties, which are really public parties that have to act exclusive in order to sustain the fickle interest of the masses. Meanwhile, famous actors and movie-folk are all acting like nobodies so that they can slip around undisturbed.

Everyone's pretending to be someone else.

Then, there's the slew of subjective awards.

Awards that are handed out even though it would be physically impossible for any group of people to view and comprehend and then compare and contrast the entirely of the 300 films in 'competition' over the ten days.

It's amazing ridiculous.

The iconic imagery of the red carpet.... The metronome of flash bulbs... the piercing screams.... the shiney shiney....the lonely psychosis of superfandomania....

A microcosm of "Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!" in a world of "please...please don't look at me".