I can only tell the scene as true as it is to me now. It is a common experience to look back on important life moments with the increased clarity of hindsight. But even now, with his frame across the studio apartment, entirely absorbed in making me an impressive breakfast (he already made the coffee) and nearly inaudibly humming along to Jack Johnson – I am struck with the certainty of the possibility that I will not see him again. Feelings of sadness and fear stir. I could muster up even a few tears if only they would make sense. I’ve only just met this man. I can’t wrap my head around the potency of the tiniest taste of possibility. It will likely leave me starving for weeks to come.
Then there is a cinematically opposite realism in which this scene that floats in front of me, is only the first of many of its kind I have the fortune to bear witness too.
Reality exists in between where neither extreme is known nor true.
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