And I kept having this feeling, over and over again, in a sequence, that I was making a film, not really living a life. I knew it, but only at certain moments — at others the idea was easily dismissed. Yet, when I became willing to directly examine this conjecture, reality began to warp in unexpected ways, and this was the clue that led me on into discovery. Further research revealed that the film -was about making this film- and the feeling that I was making a film was -the reason we were making this film-. Some of the data about the film was inaccessible. It had apparently been hidden in the nascent structure of time’s secret anatomies. And my own.