The Art of Detachment (Book 1)

1:47 AM, Thursday, Starbucks, Int.

Tara.

Sa'n?

Photo walk?

Wala 'kong pera.

Sagot ko nga.

Lahat?

Oo, pero hindi lang photo walk gagawin natin.

Ano?

Sex?

Ulul! Ano nga?

Short film. Mga three minutes lang.

Three? Eh establishing shots pa lang 'yun ah. Music video lang ang peg?

Okay, five.

Ten.

Maine, you're a writer, not a director.

Richard, you're a director, not a writer. I could write seventeen pages of a screenplay and you'd cut it to two minutes still.

Okay, okay. So, weekend?

Okay. Weekend.

Pack your bags?

Saan ba?

Laguna.

Bakit du'n? 

Tahimik.

Wala ka namang makikita du'n. Baguio, 'di mo bet? 

Masyadong usual.

Saan nga sa Laguna?

Pansol?

Anong ifi-film mo, resort? Traffic?

Ikaw.

Gagu. Ano nga?

I'd make a film about us.

Bakit? Two-man prod, gano'n?

Yeah.

Love story?

Hindi.

Eh ano?

A film about.. two lost people?

Lost ba tayo?

Ako, oo. Ikaw?

Hindi yata.

Bakit?

Anong bakit? Napaka-walang kwenta ng tanong mo, Alden.

How did you know you're not lost?

Because I see myself in everything?

Lalim. Kaya ka writer, eh. 'Di kita ma-reach.

Kaya nga. Kelan trip?

Friday night to Sunday afternoon?

Sure kang kaya mo lahat ng clips?

As long as you wouldn't do a screenplay with lots of hard locations to find.

Syempre hindi - wait!

Oh, ano? Parang nakakita ako ng light bulb sa ibabaw ulo mo base sa itsura ng mukha mo, eh.

Oo, tapos 'yung ilaw na 'yon, timplado na. Color grading na lang sa post-prod ang kulang. Let's do an experimental film?

Expound.

'Yung ano.. bahala na lang tayo!

Maine, could you be more specific?