I have been working as
a journalist for 5 years, and today I had a meeting with the writer Sandra. I arrived at their house in the mountains. It was my first time in this area and the views were breathtaking. The cottage was huge. The wooden walls of the building sparkled in the sun. Sandra invited me to come in and go to the living room so that we could record the interview. At first, everything seemed to be fine, but then this meeting became impossible. Samuel, Sandra's husband, was a musician. The sounds echoed throughout the apartment, which was starting to annoy me because I lost concentration on our conversation amidst such noise. The cosiness dissolved in the air. Although, it was not quite there at the beginning. Sandra was a little constrained, although she tried to have a nice talk. The noise got on my nerves and Sandra apparently noticed this, saying that this was probably the end of the meeting. Having not recorded anything decent, I was gnawing at the inside with irritation. Couldn't she have organized a calm atmosphere and warned her husband that people would be coming home? As I was walking to the car, I saw her waving at me standing on a large balcony , but I don't think her behaviour was good in that situation. The only thing I had in my mind on repeat was: "I can't even imagine if it's possible to organize a conversation if there's always music blaring in the house."
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