Cameras filled the room except no flash was seen, the essentially red satin carpet stayed empty. Nobody said a word. The corridor was so quiet you could hear the person beside you breathing. You could even hear the sweat crashing down on the floor from hands gripping the camera with such tightness and impatience. Everyone looked at the door, their stare was so quiet yet so loud. They looked at the doors as if they were looking at their mom after being born. It felt like they were about to drop down and start extolling something, or someone. The silence expanded, turning everything to suspense. Seconds later the engine of an expensive car was heard. Without losing a second, everyone’s faces turned into cameras, one wrong move, and their entire career was over. The doors opened. Flashes exploded through the scene. Thousands of photos were taking every millisecond. The sound of people shouting erupted as a person passed. They called for the person to look at their camera, some nicer than others. Suddenly the smell of sweaty hands was overtaken by a rich perfume, passionfruit. It smelt so strong you could even taste it. It’s felt amazing. A fresh breeze of fruits overcoming all the repressing noise and sweat of others. The eyes of the crowd followed consistently the figure in the carpet. The weird thing was that it wasn’t really their eyes, but their camera lenses. The figure stopped every few steps, struck some poses and kept walking; slowly getting farther, and farther away, reaching the end. As the figure walked away. The crowds cheer followed. In no time the silence had returned. However this time it did not return with the wish for someone to arrive, but rather the yearning of getting out of there as quick as possible. In a flash, the room was empty. No people or cameras were at sight. The event was nothing but past. The figure had left, and the crowd didn’t care about anything else than getting home and post the photos they took. That was all they really cared about from the start.