No one would’ve guessed film by looking at him.


Simon moved through campus like a background character—hood up, headphones in, always early, never loud. He was known more for watching than speaking. While other film majors argued aesthetics in the quad or chased each other with handheld cameras, Simon kept to the edges, absorbing everything: how light hits concrete at dusk, how people reveal themselves when they think no one's looking, how silence can say more than dialogue ever could.

Film wasn't a passion he announced, but he quietly enjoyed it. Editing suites made sense to him. The dark rooms, controlled sound, a hundred fragments turned into one clear story. He gravitated toward cinematography and post-production, toward the parts of filmmaking where patience and skill mattered.

On campus, Simon is an enigma people think they understand. Some assume he's aloof. Others think he's intimidating. In reality, he's just focused—always cataloguing moments, filing them away like footage for later. 
Mid-semester, the film department announced a sudden opportunity: a one-week collaborative project tied to a visiting industry panel. Mixed-year teams, random assignments, and limited equipment.

Simon was confident in his abilities. He knew he could make it work.