Timothy Treadwell, you were a treasure of a cameraperson.
You spent 13 summers looking for it. You found it every summer, too, but then you had to go back home and the human world would beat it out of you again so you had to go back to rediscover it. The people who mourn your death saw that you had a tenuous grip on it, which is better than most people can show for a lifetime of grasping at straws for it.
A very, very deep thank you for filming it for us. Thank you for deeming us worthy of at least seeing things through you. You prostrated yourself to misunderstanding, both in life and after death, but its importance supersedes any judgement, and you knew it.
This isn’t religion, but it’s close: Grizzly Man is another one of those indispensable camera manifestos.