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In Bolinas, the town where we lived until I was nine, there were no movie theaters. For public life there was an old saloon where the local poets pretended to be tough, and a general store where barefoot kids could buy dusty licorice ropes for a penny; there was even a tiny library. But no movies anywhere, except for the time when The Harder They Come screened on a sheet in someone's garage. That was the first film I ever saw. I was four; all I remember is the sound of breaking glass -- whether it came from the soundtrack or from somewhere in the room, I'm not sure.
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