Creative Writing- Interview with Kim Dotcom.
For quarter-past one on a Wednesday afternoon, L’Affaree was unusually quiet. Barristers simply leaned against counters, twiddling their thumbs as they awaited orders, and waitress’ recleaned tables to fill in time to ease their boredom. I looked into the kitchen and saw a thick blanket of smoke. Strong fumes from cigarettes rose into the air before forming an immense cloud below the ceiling. Like the remainder of the staff, the Chefs had almost nothing to do. I checked my watch for the third time; twenty past one. Twenty minutes late. Was I supposed to believe that he was a businessman? A man of superiority who was beyond arriving on time for a simple interview? Nevertheless, as these thoughts unravelled in my head, a deep roar suddenly pierced my ears. The windows bounced in their frames and the sa...