Summary

In childhood, my favorite toy was a typewriter. It seemed so that fate had chosen me for a path leading to great cinema. However, not clear enough expressions of desires can bring about what one wishes for in unexpected forms. Thus, I became a clapper. In an era where cars can drive themselves down the streets, I try to understand: what does a person with a piece of plastic in hand get to do on a film set? And what am I doing with this life? Most importantly, do small actions really lead to something great?