“Dear Sir,

“We are shipping you to-day by Adams Express one specially made Paper Mache Skeleton. Very truly yours,

– H. Brandle.”

Depending on the language version you watch, you'll see a 1928 newspaper headline dated September 20 (a Thursday), January 10 (a Tuesday), or January 9 (a Monday).

 

 

And July 20

“On July 4, 1976 I and my camera toured the state of Colorado with governor Richard D. Lamm, as he traveled in parades with his children, appeared at dinners, lectured, etc. On July 20, I spent the morning in his office in the state capitol and the afternoon with himself and his wife in a television studio, then with Mrs. Lamm greeting guests to the governor’s mansion and finally with Governor Lamm in his office again. These two days of photography took me exactly one year to edit into a film which wove itself thru multiple superimpositions into a study of light and power.”

– Stan Brakhage

Filmmaker Jean Epstein and his cameraman Paul Guichard made their way to the Etna on June 22, 1923. This was merely five days after the eruption started.

“Sicily! The night had a thousand eyes. All sorts of smells shrieked at once. An unfurled coil of wire brought our car, swathed in moonlight as if surrounded by mosquito netting, to a halt. It was hot. Impatient, the drivers broke off singing the most beautiful love song, striking the car with a monkey wrench and insulting Christ and his mother with a blind faith in their efficacy. In front of us: Etna, the great actor who bursts onto the stage two or three times each century, whose tragic extravagances I had arrived to film. An entire side of the mountain was a blazing spectacle. The conflagration reached up to the reddened corners of the sky. From a distance of twenty kilometers, the rumbling at times seemed to be a triumphal reception heard from afar, as if a thousand hands were applauding in an immense ovation.”

– Jean Epstein, Le Cinématographe vu de l’Etna (1926) (via)

“It's spooky! It sounds… unholy!”

– Echo

and May 4.