Fiction is fiction, not fact. Yet it is as well a sign of society in the time it is written. Think Candide and how Voltaire needed to cloak his political views within a fable. It tells us not only what was going on in this historical era, but the very need to satirize it rather than speak openly says just as much about it.
But Voltaire’s view is not fact, but judgement, opinion.
I am coming to the theory that film alone may be the most accurate (uncut, unedited) record of time. Still, it is biased by where the camera is aimed–do we pass by the streets of lower 9th at Mardi Gras in favor of the French Quarter? Is the whole story then true enough of New Orleans?
Late September has brought back the early morning blackness of the garage. I write my name in the air with the glowing tip of a cigarette. In memory, it is almost decipherable. With still film, aperture open for the full two-three seconds, the name can be read in the resulting print. It is the only true capture of three seconds of time. Better than my memory of it; better than my words could describe.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology