Not sure if you’ve seen Ocean’s Eleven.
(Yes, the George Clooney version. I’m not old enough to refer to the 1960 version. Yet.)
There’s this scene, towards the end, after they successfully pulled off the heist.
The eleven men stood in front of the Bellagio fountain.
Debussy’s Suite Bargamasque #3 playing in the background.
With a smirk on their faces, they leave the fountain. One by one.
That scene summarises how I feel whenever I finish a shoot at night.
Especially last Sunday night, leaving Ilana and Michael’s reception from the NGV.
It was 11.30pm on the Princes Bridge.
Families and tourists were returning from the Moomba festival, movies, gigs, drinks, celebrations.
Or whatever normal families and tourists do on a Sunday night.
And I was among these people on the tram.
Normal folks enjoying their day off.
Rightfully ignorant about my 12 hour day.
About what I saw. The friendships, the dancing, the laughters, tears. My tired feet.
Rightfully ignorant about me, humming Debussy in my head.
Call me crazy, but I consider this as one of the perks of the job.
