I’m a bit… shook. Not quite shook. It’s more a sense that 20 minutes of dreamy Super 8 film footage has been harvested from somewhere deep in my brain. It’s a feeling that rather than watch a film I remembered things. The images were tugged out of my private life. Someone hacked my hard drive and posted my files on Youtube. It’s not a violation. I would have done it myself if I could have. They’re all things I would have shared.

I would have been 15 when someone visited New York City and wandered about with their handheld capturing all this. My journey of exploration and discovery was just beginning. We used to cut school to come down into Manhattan and just wander. Some kids go cave exploring. This is what we did.

You know what? I had more to say or at least thought I did when I started this. The film is what it is though. It’s a treasure for me. It’s personal because at one point or another I stood exactly where the shooter stood for every scene. We rode the same taxis and buses, and the Staten Island Ferry. Our eyes witnessed the same events and locations. It’s just personal. It’s a reminder.