If I didn't try to eavesdrop on every bus ride I take or look for the humor when I go for a walk, I would just be depressed all the time.

I am about as detailed as a shadow.

What is an idea made of? Of future, past and also meanwhile.

I run a tight ship, but I try and make it seem like I'm not doing that at all.

My goal on my bucket list is to write a romantic comedy movie.

I live in constant fear of being fired or dropped for that dark part of my work I can't control.

What year is it in your imagination?