I am walking. Walking on a frail path, from death to life. The way is unclear, filled with twists and turns. Obstructions around every corner, a root under each footstep, snags that attack each particle of clothing. Debris is all around, as are dead bodies. I lift my foot from a face, it smiles. Staggering I whisper, I can never forget that face. The face replies; memories all drift pulled by the current of time....

The film is heavy and thick. I pull it out of its slumber, expecting it to snarl at me.   I spin it on the reel, a satisfied click as it rusts into place. The summing sound escapes the machine.  ...