gray, damp, cold. on the drive north to the Ditch Witch dealer in Moberly to meet Deb’s mom and drop off the kids so that Nick, Deb, and I can get to the full schedule of films at the True/False Documentary Film Festival. they got two passes, but there are numerous situations where the films overlap and such, so I end up getting to see a number of screenings in between long conversations catching up with the six years that have passed since we last had the chance to break bread (and other things). cataclysmic, catalytic, cathartic? where to start?
well, breakfast at Cafe Berlin seems an auspicious point.