The smoke hung to the ceiling, the smokiness of the whisky clung to the back of our throats. The comfort of the walls liberated our expression. We were conspiring, and madness dared to precede us.
Conspiring on change, deliberating on decision, gathering our thoughts for the future of the web: as we could each see it. Tongues flew fast on the back of ideas and tangents. We bounced from process to product, from theory to theatre and concepts had their potential amplified by each discourse.
Some of us sat up, stood, paced, drew wildly on the walls. Others stared at the floor and shook their heads, looking up to interject in the vein of ‘Exactly!’, ‘Tell that to the world’ or ‘Pass me the bottle’.
Can we ever recreate this fast flowing and fluid communication through a remote medium? Do remote teams suffer as a consequence?