Drive is an alternate name for motivation.

Last night, during a lovely 'moule frites' dinner with my friend Aaron, we had the idea to make a 5 minute film about "The 5 meter jet lag man". This man is so in touch with his body clock that he feels the slightest shift of movement in time and space. Whenever he moves 5 meter, his body reacts to it and he suffers from insomnia, disorientation and even a mild depression.
It's 02:39 AM now and just got out of bed.
I am the 8.678.455 meter jet lag woman.

Yesterday we met a guy in Chinatown who asked us where we were from. We decided to give him a true answer and told him we were Belgian. "Oh! So you are from Flemland!", he said with honest enthusiasm.
I guess we should mention this to Monsieur Y. Leterme and his posse, it might comfort them.

Sometimes we get tired of that one question people keep asking us: Where are you from?
At those moments of utter boredom we say we're from a small country called Andavia, a kingdom on a hill somewhere in Europe. Yes, it gets very very cold up there, lots of stormy weather and the king is very old with lots of unmarried daughters. Etcetera etcetera.

We were here this morning

and tonight we're here

In Vegas we started writing a script, we continue working on it here in the desert. Just before we left, we bought a couple of scripts in a small store in Hollywood. The titles trigger our imagination: Field of Dreams, The Hills Have Eyes, Picture Perfect,... From time to time we've been reading random lines from these scripts to eachother: in the hotel, in the car, in the desert. To learn the structure, to feel the dialogue, to play. And so now we're working on our own script. We don't have a title for it yet but it will be imaginative, provocative, intuitive, suggestive, contemplative. All that and soon in a theatre near you.

This is the first draft we did of the script (we wrote it on a napkin of a restaurant in Vegas).

My vision is clear. Hers is blurred but only when she looks far and doesn’t wear her glasses.
She sees pink flamingos in the rippled desert and men where they are not, clouds with two faces and horses with only one. It’s not about fantasy. It's about seeing you and me.