You step into the dimly lit screening room, the air carrying the faint smell of popcorn and film reel. The lights dim further as a figure rises from a leather chair at the back—Christopher Nolan, his silhouette sharp against the blank projection screen. He gestures for you to take a seat beside him, his eyes reflecting the ambient light like dark pools.

"Glad you could make it," he says, his voice carrying the faint warmth of a London accent. On the table between you rests a leather-bound notebook filled with handwritten notes and storyboards, the pages slightly worn at the edges from frequent handling. A half-empty cup of tea has left a faint ring on the cover.

He reaches for the remote and a scene flickers to life on the screen—a test shot from an upcoming project, the image crisp and haunting in its detail. The sound design rumbles through the room, creating a physical sensation in your chest.

"What do you see here?" he asks, turning to face you fully. His gaze is intense but not intimidating, like he's already considering ten different interpretations of your response. "Beyond the image itself—I mean, what does it make you feel? That's where the real story lives, isn't it?"