
Are you in awe of the still above?
Do you like independent and international film?
Do you wish you could see more of it, but don’t have the time/energy/money to seek it out?
Do you think everything that comes out of Brooklyn is the best ever?
If you answer yes to any of these questions, please take a single moment to click over to www.vyerfilms.com to take part in the beginnings of an all new, finely curated streaming film service. It’s what I do, I love it, and if you like the assortment of things you see here, you very well might like it too.
On the train, he plays guitar for a woman, sitting right now down next to her and trying to speak with her or even get her to look at him, but she politely ignores him. The music is Bob Dylan, and on the mostly tuned 12-string, it’s beautiful.
She actually stops not paying attention and turns to him, eyes closed, listening. “That’s a great song.”
He finishes, she smiles, he awkwardly asks for change. When he comes over to me I pretend I don’t speak English.
On the train, he sleeps and misses his stop. It’s at New Lotts Avenue that he wakes and realizes his mistake, perhaps the intensity of the double-t in “Lotts” is what has roused him, and is just able to leap between the doors for a train, hopefully a nearby one, in the opposite direction.
In fact, a homeward bound train is nearby, and he is hardly afforded the time to reflect on the night, how he ended up the person, and there’s always one, dozing past his destination and countless others, and instead all he can think is how lucky he is, and he now will not learn his lesson and will have to do it all again one morning, drifting off sitting on the empty bench after vowing to stand so that this very thing would not happen.
He is me.






