By Marcelo Damiani
Kingston, to begin with, was simply King. He ruled, sovereign and
omnipotent, over his parents, uncles, grandparents and family friends without
any kind of obstacle or opposition. A weary gurgle and a gesture towards the
object of his desire was all it took for his every whim to be met. Life, at
that time, consisted of identifying the shape of things that swarmed around
him, then making the difficult decision as to whether he wanted them now or
later. Here, surely, lay the key to understanding his early fascination with
the cinema, even though he often complained he had discovered the seventh art
rather late. His mother had taken him to the cinema for the first time when he
was just 4 months old (111 days to be precise) and this, of course, represented
irretrievably lost time.
The rest of the story here.
