Eight years ago this week, I walked into a bar in Galway, was directed to an empty chair, ordered a Guinness, and met one of the finest men, and most faithful friends I’ve ever known. Colin and I were at a wonderful little film festival devoted to the works of Krysztof Kieslowski; a film festival the quality of whose art was matched by its warmth of spirit. A community emerged over that weekend, experiencing the transcendence of Kieslowski’s work in the presence of some of his co-creators; filling the spaces between us with shared glances, glistening eyes, and listening noises.











