https://speakerdeck.com/zaqqaz26 2023-10-09 12:20:01 -0400 A character exploration: Anton Ego (Ratatouille) stuck in the elevator of a restaurant he was about to review A character exploration: Anton Ego (Ratatouille) stuck in the elevator of a restaurant he was about to review Mon, 15 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0400 https://speakerdeck.com/zaqqaz26/anton-ego-stuck-in-the-elevator https://speakerdeck.com/zaqqaz26/anton-ego-stuck-in-the-elevator Mon, 15 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0400 https://speakerdeck.com/zaqqaz26/night-ride-storyboard https://speakerdeck.com/zaqqaz26/night-ride-storyboard An Uber driver picks up a strange passenger on a late-night ride An Uber driver picks up a strange passenger on a late-night ride Mon, 15 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0400 https://speakerdeck.com/zaqqaz26/night-ride https://speakerdeck.com/zaqqaz26/night-ride When I was between 6 and 8 years old, my family and I spent every August in Stromboli, a volcanic island a few kilometers off the north coast of Sicily. My dad, a skilled surgeon, had also a great passion for fishing. He was renowned in Positano for catching a huge ricciola (amberjack) several years before I was born. During our time in Stromboli, my dad would often take me fishing for totani, a kind of squid. It was an adventure, but not an easy one. First we had to wait until darkness, for squid fishing was an overnight affair. Then, with a small boat, we ventured a little off the coast, armed with a special bait - basically a flashlight with a crown of hooks. Throwing the bait repeatedly into the pitch-black sea, we struggled to keep our lines untangled. And when, by chance, we caught a squid, the bloody thing would retaliate by shooting a jet of water at the closest target - usually me. I must confess, I didn't quite enjoy the whole ordeal: it was too messy and tiresome. Back then I failed to grasp the true significance of those moments. The last time we visited Stromboli was in August 1999. A few months later, in March 2000, my dad passed away. In the years that followed, I often recalled of those summers in Stromboli and of course the squid fishing. As time went on, my recollections evolved. The boredom and weariness of those nights at sea faded away, leaving only the echoes of the waves, the brilliance of the stars above, and the warmth of the time spent with my dad. I wish I had known how precious that time was. When I was between 6 and 8 years old, my family and I spent every August in Stromboli, a volcanic island a few kilometers off the north coast of Sicily. My dad, a skilled surgeon, had also a great passion for fishing. He was renowned in Positano for catching a huge ricciola (amberjack) several years before I was born. During our time in Stromboli, my dad would often take me fishing for totani, a kind of squid. It was an adventure, but not an easy one. First we had to wait until darkness, for squid fishing was an overnight affair. Then, with a small boat, we ventured a little off the coast, armed with a special bait - basically a flashlight with a crown of hooks. Throwing the bait repeatedly into the pitch-black sea, we struggled to keep our lines untangled. And when, by chance, we caught a squid, the bloody thing would retaliate by shooting a jet of water at the closest target - usually me. I must confess, I didn't quite enjoy the whole ordeal: it was too messy and tiresome. Back then I failed to grasp the true significance of those moments. The last time we visited Stromboli was in August 1999. A few months later, in March 2000, my dad passed away. In the years that followed, I often recalled of those summers in Stromboli and of course the squid fishing. As time went on, my recollections evolved. The boredom and weariness of those nights at sea faded away, leaving only the echoes of the waves, the brilliance of the stars above, and the warmth of the time spent with my dad. I wish I had known how precious that time was. Mon, 09 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0400 https://speakerdeck.com/zaqqaz26/squids-in-stromboli-beatboards https://speakerdeck.com/zaqqaz26/squids-in-stromboli-beatboards