Kendi - Shorts
No plan. Just a feeling. Zoom lens and betting it all on red. The kind of trip where you don’t know what’s happening until it’s already behind you. It’s New Jersey Turnpike. Orange juice in a high-rise. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A black suit that doesn’t fit. This wasn’t made on purpose. It happened. And for once, I didn’t direct—It was a self playing piano.