You're meandering down a sketchy, dark alleyway...

As you walk past a hooded creature of the night warming himself by a barrel of burning garbage, you notice the inconspicuous-looking door I told you about, so you knock three times.

"...password?"

You uncrumple the piece of paper I gave you and whisper the words the doorman wants to hear, and he lets you inside.

The difference is stark.

After making your way down the creaky, wooden stairs, you're greeted by a crackling fire, exotic rugs, and walls covered floor to ceiling with musty books and tempting bourbon.

I wave to you from one of the booths, and we order our favourite cocktails.

There is only one aim here, and this aim is best explained in the words of the legendary Neil Gaiman:

Make Good Art.

Nothing more. Nothing less.