Reel 703. Something has changed. I am almost certain. I do not think I am imagining this. Not like the last time. Or the times before that. I am certain of it in this reel. There is a spot. A small spot in the center of the frame. I am compelled to watch it in this otherwise sea of white. A pinpoint of darkness. How fascinating! I am giddy. It has been worth the wait. Imagine if I had cheated, fast-forwarded, skimmed through the preceding 129 hours. This reveal would have had none of the power it has now. This tiny darkness. It is extraordinary. I settle in, putty in Ingo’s masterful African American hands. Was this really the film the last time I watched it? Did I perhaps misunderstand it entirely? Did my white privilege keep me from seeing it on its own terms, seeing its very whiteness? Have I grown? Is that why I can see it now for what it is? Huzzah! I change the reel.