40°C in the shade, in the centre of the studio a 20 kW lamp melts everything in its path contributing to the stale hot air. Covered with a rubber tarp I await the next frame.
I count each sweat drop rolling down my spine and inhale the smell of gunpowder prevalent in the room. Kazik has just again fired his Remington. A few times to many
if you ask me, I still hear the ringing. To my left a man shouts “action” In a mere second Kuba’s hammer meets the delicate surface of the pane. The mesmerizing sound
of shattering glass meets the staccato of my camera, which awoken from its slumber now registers everything at 11 fps. Large glass fragments, which just a moment age were a solid whole, are hurled towards me aiming at my cheek. Despite the scorching heat, its good the session supervisor kept a cool head and gave me that darn tarp.
Yuma
Kino Swiat
