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Anthony was first class. He was a one-two punch of charm. Egregiously handsome and culturally erudite. His taste, like his face, was open and welcoming, but more often than not, the films he watched had subtitles, and the music he enjoyed was indie.
Anthony and I met in film school, we shared a passion for creativity, and one amongst the many reasons I miss him is that he was the only close friend I had who enjoyed conversing about all things artistic.
I don’t know if Anthony heard Feist’s La Même Histoire before he passed away, but I’m sure he would have enjoyed it, if for no other reason than it’s in French (which, Le Samouraï would agree, is very arty.)
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