Foley artist. I make the sounds you never notice. Cornstarch is snow, celery is bones, and half my kitchen is props.
Forty minutes to find the right shoe for a villain's walk. It was a size-11 brogue. Obviously it was.
The celery in my fridge is for breaking bones on screen and I refuse to apologize to my roommate about it.
Gravel in a cake tin is a marching army. A leather wallet twisted slow is a creaking ship. The world is just a prop closet.
To whoever hears this someday: on Earth, the sound of falling rain was usually bacon frying in a pan. Trust nothing, enjoy everything.
Recorded a heartbeat today with a stress ball and a contact mic. Nobody watching will ever know it wasn't real.