It’s not often you’re introduced to a film that opens up a whole new world to you.

Having lived in Bristol a couple of decades I felt familiar with graffiti culture, and having read some Steinbeck and listened to Woody Guthrie I thought I understood a bit about hobo culture too, and I loved what I thought I knew. Watching Bill Daniel’s movie is a revelation in the true sense of the word.

You learn about a subculture and get introduced to its community, like in all good documentaries.

But there is magic in Bill’s film.

It brings that shy and rough and weird world humming into life. It’s a detective movie, a piece of social history, a fable… a reminder of how close some elements outside the mainstream, though imbued with divinity and artistry, come to being undocumented and forgotten.