I sat in the library reading a script from zoetrope and working on my own screenplay. It takes me a bit of time to get into the scene, but too many times, for this scene, I find myself getting emotional. I'm weeping for this poor decrepit creature reduced to eating maggot infested food in an apartment without electricity, water and broken windows to survive as the end comes for his people, brought about by the leadership of his world. The only culture remaining for him is his musical instrument. I can imagine it, but I don't think the words I'm writing will ever do it justice.