I studied the VHS tape. It was one of those popping shells, the ones that have an open

slot in the center, where you can throw in a camera cartridge and watch your home movies

without having to process them at a film store. It was exactly what I was looking for.

Any idea where this came from, I asked. No, the man replied, wiping away about a quarter

of sweat that had gathered in his beard. The rest of it kept dripping on the remainder

of his strange wares. He watched me with uttered disdain, but I gave it another shot.

Really, where did you find it like? Come on, a little bit of background would be nice.

It's not a boutique buddy, you're at a flea market, you either buy it or you can get

lost. It's too hard to deal with this detective nonsense, he said, but then, probably because

I was the only customer at his stall, his home softened. Got it from a storage unit

auction, that's all I can tell you. I don't keep track of this stuff, I just sell it.

That's all the information I needed. I paid the man and took my mysterious prize home.

Back in the early 2000s, I consumed YouTube vlogs like there were fine caviar and I was

a Russian oligarch. There was just something about being able to kick back and become an

invisible observer in someone else's existence that really got to me. Don't get me wrong,

I wasn't some desperate basement dweller. I still had a functioning life of my own. But

when evening came and all of my responsibilities were checked off, I'd jump behind my computer

desk and take a break from reality. I'd sit back and watch hours upon hours of other

people's lives. I watched a lonely man beat cancer, a promising student struggling with

pills, a teen mother who cracked under the pressure of her new responsibilities. I watched

people overcome and spiral and regress. I watched slices of raw humanity from all across

the globe from the comfort of my own home. I got to get a taste of fate I never would

...