Amy is an incredible film. The found footage of a lost life works its way through me as I walk out of the cinema tonight and into the devastatingly open wings of Angel where I live.  There’s a  summer rain.  It’s barely heavy enough to fall. Like Amy. Heartbreakingly clear in its authenticity and heartbreakingly blurred in reality.

The truthfulness of a life captured within a kaliedescopic lie, by  a slow motion passing shadow,  is devastating. Her life in a spinning raindrop.  All shadows are defined by light.    Alcoholism is a silent assassin –  hidden in plain sight – in silhouette and luminosity.  It wears every moment every emotion  as camouflage and waits with stealth.

Amy didn’t die at the party when everyone was “having a good time”.  She died alone.   I’m not against alcohol. I am against alcoholism. Most of us (rich or poor)  know someone we think may have a problem.  Don’t gossip about them.  Check in on them. Drop a leaflet for AA through their door, leave a few at the office by the water cooler.  They die alone too.