A Certain Point of View: Writing, Film and Stuff

 💫 Fragments of Time, Glimpses of the Heart 💫 Step into the world of Jim Garraty—a man whose quiet journey through memory, longing, and redemption has touched readers in ways both unexpected and familiar. Across three distinct stories, you'll find echoes of your own past, gently reshaped through fiction. 📖 Reunion: A Story takes you to a Florida high school in 1983, where Jim faces a silent moment of decision that will echo for decades. 📖 Reunion: Coda revisits him in 1998 as a professor confronting personal ghosts and revisiting old friendships. 📖 Comings and Goings – The Art of Being Seen explores fleeting connections in Boston during 1984, where simply being noticed can mean everything. These works aren’t just stories—they’re portraits of vulnerability, humanity, and the grace found in quiet reflection. Written with spare beauty and emotional depth, they speak to anyone who’s ever wondered about missed chances, forgiveness, and what remains after time has passed. Av...

  Because You Were Kind. Because You Were Here. Sometimes it’s not the grand gestures or the well-timed speeches that leave the deepest impressions. Sometimes it’s just being there —quietly, imperfectly, but fully present. There’s an illustrated quote making the rounds from Comings and Goings: The Art of Being Seen that reads: “Because you were kind. Because you were here. That’s what matters.” It’s simple. Unadorned. But it echoes—for good reason. In stories and in life, we often believe impact comes from fixing something. That if we say the perfect thing or perform the perfect act, we’ll finally make a difference. But presence—genuine, patient presence—is its own kind of grace. It doesn’t demand a spotlight. It doesn’t require resolution. It just offers a kind of quiet hope: that showing up for someone, even in their silence, can still mean everything. That’s the kind of love and kindness I’ve tried to explore in my work—not as a climax, but as a current. Not shouted, but...

  © 2025 Alex Diaz-Granados Comings and Goings: The Art of Being Seen wasn’t something I planned to write. It began, as many things do, with a memory—or the ghost of one. A fleeting moment tucked into Reunion: Coda , when Jim Garraty, now older and maybe wiser, walks across Columbia’s campus and thinks he sees her. Not a name, just a resemblance. Not certainty, just recognition. And for a second, 1984 floods back—along with a girl who poured him a Heineken and didn’t ask him to be anyone but who he was. “She has the same blonde hair and bright, inquisitive blue eyes as Kelly Moore, a girl I met at a freshman party at Harvard... The faint taste of the beer lingers in my memory, crisp and slightly bitter.” That was all it took. Kelly Moore—originally just a footnote in Jim’s emotional ledger—began to insist on more space. Her voice, her presence, the shape of that night refused to fade. Until finally, I stopped trying to treat it like a tangent. And wrote it as a story. ...

© 2025 Alex Diaz-Granados   Sometimes, our best-laid plans find themselves quietly rewritten by the world around us. I originally intended to hold onto Comings and Goings until the fall of 2025, letting anticipation build in step with the turning seasons. But with so much uncertainty close to home and across the globe, I decided the story’s quiet light might be needed now, not later. So, as of yesterday, Comings and Goings is available in Kindle format for $2.99, and the paperback ($9.99) will arrive on July 1.   Boston, 1984. A party Jim Garraty never wanted to attend. A girl who didn’t look away. A night stitched together by mixtapes, quiet courage, and the ache of choosing to stay. Jim isn’t chasing romance—he’s just trying to outrun the noise. But when Kelly Moore enters the room with her drink, her Rachmaninoff references, and her uncanny ability to see without pressing, everything shifts. Over cassette tapes and Heineken beer, conversations deepen, touch beco...

The author in 2020   “Some Loves Don’t Ask”: A Poem in Three Movements Some moments don’t belong to the past so much as they echo quietly in the present—fragments of kindness, memory, and presence that resist the erosion of time. As I prepare to share Comings and Goings: The Art of Being Seen , I’ve been thinking about the spaces between stories—the ones that never become chapters, but shape the emotional weight of everything that follows. The poem below isn’t part of the short story, but it shares its emotional DNA. It’s a reflection on encounters that didn’t last, but mattered. I hope it finds you in a quiet moment.   The Boy She Loved for One Night She’s older now— not by much, but enough that the past feels more like a country she left than one she was exiled from. At a shelf she wasn’t seeking, his name appears— spine out, serifed, tucked between authors she almost recognizes. Garraty. A flicker. A room. A song dressed in Beethoven’s longing. ...

Soft Light, Quiet Courage Kelly’s Perspective He stepped inside like he wasn’t quite sure he belonged. His eyes moved over everything—the piano, the books stacked sideways, the lavender sprig in the jelly jar next to the stereo. He didn’t make a single joke about the crooked lampshade or the milk crate bookshelf. Didn’t pretend not to notice the faint scent of lemon cleaner and reheated rice. He just looked around like it was a story he hadn’t heard yet. A man had never looked at my apartment that way. Not like he was casing it or judging it—more like he was absorbing it. And that’s when I saw it. Not in anything he said. Just... how still he stood. Hands at his sides. Shoulders slightly hunched. Like he’d crossed a threshold and didn’t want to track in something he wasn’t supposed to. He’d never been in a girl’s bedroom before. Not like this. Not as himself. Not without bravado or teasing or expectation. That realization settled gently in my chest—not as power, but as tenderness . “I...