Chapter Eight
It took her mere seconds to find out who the camerawoman was and mere hours to see all her videos. She had stayed awake all night on her computer and it was nearly dawn. She would be sleepy and practically crawl to the music school in a couple of hours but she didn’t care.
It hadn’t been hard to find someone with a description so wacky as hers. Her name was Orosa. She had a badly built motovlog, which is a video blog, of someone riding a motorbike. Hence, moto-video-blog. Motovlog. She said that out loud a few times and in her stupor it sounded really silly and made her laugh.
Orosa’s motovlog was a rebirth of all the ugly abandoned graphics of the web-pages of the previous generation. Eye-gouging colours, fonts that defied reading and camera-shaken videos, since the take
