July 19th 2025, Hilversum
I recently bought myself a new apartment. Nothing fancy. It has a small living area, an even smaller kitchen, a single bedroom with just enough space for a bed, and a large attic.
In this attic, I found a crate with letters, newspaper clippings and notes. At first glance it just looked like some personal letters and memories of someone who lived here 30 years ago. Some were just birthday cards or thank you notes, but when I started to read them, I noticed a pattern here: Every piece of text in this box was either written by, to, or about James Flint, between the summer of ’95 and the winter of ’97.
It is interesting to see how communication was limited just thirty years ago. No cell phones, no internet. Cameras had film that took time to develop. Letters arrived one or two days after they were written. Not to mention the lack of CCTV, especially in private areas.
The collection seems to be kept as a diary by James himself. He saved every letter he got, and made photocopies of the letters he sent out. But by far most of the documents are handwritten letters from James to his sister. These are the originals, they were never sent.
I want to show you the text documents I found, but for privacy reasons I have changed the names. I have also omitted all the photos I found in the crate, either loose or attached to a letter. It was disturbing enough that I had to see those photos, and I would not do that to anyone else.
The diary of James Flint is a violent and disturbing story. Even without the photos. Keep that in mind if you decide to read this diary.
