So, there we were singing ‘The Spiteful Chant’, brushing the dust off of our little shoulders and smiling that the fact we had a design for bespoke project locked + down. Until we were stopped cold, in fact stopped so cold it may have been Siberian cold, so cold that there were huskies and Inuit. Anyway, you get the point – We were stopped cold by This.
Oh and this…
‘The Spiteful Chant’ was then swiftly transmuted into a Gregorian chant that you would hear in the dank, dreary, hallways of a monastery. (Is there a design equivalent of a Monastery? If there is would we have a pantone bible, which would be our Sabbath day, and would we say ‘Hail, Saul Bass?’ who knows???) The point is we started doing our usual crying/moaning/hot tears coursing down our face routine.
We are sure that when people show up at the wedding of Brad and Jess, they will cry tiny tears of happiness. However, considering that this design has killed us and hidden the body, like the visual equivalent of Ted Bundy – we’ll just stick to bog standard jealous tears of envy, okay?
About the author
I'm the big kahuna with the whole shebang. Amma = Idiot + Savant. Also known as Ams, Amsy, and less frequently Adjubi . Nice to make your acquaintance. I write in the first, second, third and sometimes disembodied person (Bet it will confuse the life out of you).