Long days spent working on production of something that got a bit derailed; Iceland was an experience, that's for sure. Hours of footage brought an influx of contrasting emotions, but the meticulous work of organizing and ordering scenes to tell a story began before it ended in Boeblingen, Germany. I had no expectations of what was to come, nor did I hope for the adventure that did. Nothing--none of the mountains, valleys or glaciers--made me feel more part of this world than coming to understand that YES, DEAR, LOVE AND ITS KINDRED SPIRIT DOES EXIST.
I remember walking through the maddening heat of a parking lot in Tuscaloosa to return from a day of grasping how to use this-and-that software and figuring out just exactly how to piece together a puzzle that ultimately few would realize was a summer's worth of fret and an aspiration to make a film. Never mind the technicalities--there was a long blond-topped body stretched out on my couch that dozed as the afternoon sun forced itself through white window panes.
I couldn't disturb the sleeper at once, but I captured his light instead:
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