I received these words from a viewer who had just seen Mark’s Film (below).
‘I had a neighbor and friend, named Andy, who used to find his way into my house, sit in the rocking chair in my bedroom, and wait for me to come home. I would find bouquets of weeds on the hood of my car. He would be watching me for days, standing so still I wouldn’t know he was there.
My sons from Africa, who were used to watching for things that could hurt them, were ever aware of his presence. But not me. I once awoke and found him sleeping in the rain on the stoop outside my door. He had a family who loved him, I called his father then who advised me to call the police as he knew he himself could neither catch Andy or persuade him to change his behaviors or circumstances. He wandered the woods, dirty and ragged, and ran from everyone who tried to help. He finally committed suicide.
He was brilliant, attractive, highly musical and emotionally tender and sensitive. And he’s gone.’
Thank you Jeri O. For watching, and for writing. Andy had schizophrenia.