Well, it has been since 6/30/2022 that the San Francisco Art Institute closed its doors for good. It was my academic home, hub, and sanctuary. I still miss it. The reality hasn't set in yet. Below is what happens when a suddenly wandering film professor without a port goes off to distant lands to teach and try to build new ports. The chacha flows, the gestures get extreme, reality and fantasy blur, and time seems to stop. But, it doesn't, does it. I have had close film professionals tell me that they are happy I am not locked into a school anymore. They feel this is a good time for me to go back to making films for myself. Maybe so. It is not easy to raise money and make a film. It takes a lot of energy and stamina, but if my uncle can make an epic film at age 83, I can make a smaller personal film based on the need for nature, simplicity, hope, beautiful poetic music, and, most of all, the dignity of all people, right? I don't know. It is still a "Paradise Found"-esque epic albeit on a smaller scale and budget. The problem is I love teaching. I like giving something back, what I know, to help inspire others to do the same. Somehow, I have to combine my father, the great educator, and my uncle, the great filmmaker, into one rather different, difficult, melancholic, arty, whacky, philosophical, high-frequency aging beast. It takes a very strong person to be able to do that. And, I am not that strong, lately. Well, all we can do is work hard and carry on as they say. And try to have a little fun along the way.