I was six years old. I just entered school, I was proud. It was an important day in an important year for me. I still remember it. I remember the colourful photographs showing me with my parents, my siblings, my grandparents outside the school building or outside the block of flats where we lived.
Many years later, when I began to write my book manuscript, I realised that there was a parallel world to what I was experiencing. There was an underbelly, which I wasn’t aware of aged 6 and yet was very much in it . . .
Please register and become a member of The Arts of (Slow) Cinema or login to continue reading. Your contribution supports independent film criticism. Thank you!