Summer of 1990, New York — Our documentary film budget was tight and so we were staying in a budget hotel. The hotel’s one redeeming feature was a fantastic Italian restaurant on the adjoining corner. After a delicious dinner, we dreaded returning to our tiny room that demonstrated the owner’s utter lack of interest in decoration. To top it off, it was a hot and muggy night and the room had no air-conditioning. We didn’t dare turn on the overhead light. William stretched out on the bed. I took off a layer of clothing and sat in my slip, as close to the open window as possible. Across the street, no…