His new home welcomed him with open arms like a mother greets a child returning from school.
Cozy, peaceful, comforting, a wave of nostalgia washed over him, stitching him together as if he were receiving stitches.
He sat in his new armchair, stretched his legs, but this time something prevented him.
A glass table, something as simple as that.
That sum of money had served him well, enough to buy a chalet with an old-fashioned style.
It looked like a house from the 1950s; it seemed as if time had stood still in that house. He could even feel the familiar atmosphere it might have once held.
He rummaged in his pocket and noticed that his pack of cigarettes was thin, emaciated from those cylinders full of tobacco that he loved so much.
He needed to buy more.
....
....
..
—Cut
Scorsese watched the scene in which Robert De Niro explained how the mafia business operated. The casinos in Las Vegas
He smiled, amused. It was funny to see De Niro in those colorful suits.
Due to the cast's high level of professionalism, filming wouldn't take long, although the fast-paced scenes were suffocating everyone.
The young man wasn't as frequent on the film set as before. He felt a strange feeling he hadn't experienced before.
A touch of shame.
And it was unusual for a man like him, but it stemmed from the fact that he was directing a film that didn't feel like his own.
He looked again as everyone bustled about, tidying up and making adjustments everywhere.
He needed to return the favor, though he didn't know how.
...
....
..
He never expected them.
He probably never thought something like this would happen so soon.
And much less that this guy would be looking at him as if he were staring at a gold ingot.
His wide smile showed how happy he was to see him, but it also filled him with repulsion.
Weinstein
Himself, a powerful man like A disgusting person.
While he sat in his comfortable and prized armchair, a letter slipped silently under the door.
But as silent as it was, it was also dangerous.
Associating with this type of person wasn't good, and he knew it.
But at the same time, he knew that none of the bigwigs would be very interested in him; most couldn't see beyond what they had.
He stubbed out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray, which had an eye with a ruby—or perhaps it wasn't.
"What is your proposal?"