My parents used to run an ice cream shop in an odd neighborhood. It was not a particularly successful venture. But in that shop were all kinds of strange figures.

I was a small kid, no older than 7 or 8, and I would look up at these tall and odd folk. In this shop were customers so peculiar. Vulgar, refined, loud, soft-spoken, brash, gentle, all with strange stories to tell.

In my mind, this is what design is: listening to the stories of the odd folk of this world. Because we are all odd folk with odd stories.