Clara
The building still didn't feel like a headquarters, it felt like an idea.
The echo of my footsteps bounced off the bare walls as I walked through what, in a few months, would be the main meeting room. The concrete was exposed, the columns uncovered, the windows still covered with temporary protectors. Nothing was definitive, but everything was decided.
Phase one of this great project was barely underway.
I liked to be there when there was no one else, no voices, no opinions. Without external expectations.
I spread out the plans on a makeshift table and watched them carefully. The distribution of offices, common spaces, the location of the teams. Every decision had weight. Each line drawn was a way of saying something new begins here.
Phase one did not admit errors. New York did
