FROM THE CONFESSIONS OF A. /
A_PHOTO_MONOLOGUE

"Like father like son ! Like mother like daughter ! It´s always the same !
In my mind I know that I have confidence in her. That she´s not making my mistakes.

I had my part of the glamourus life. The night people, the fashion army, the hangers on. I can´t stop the images. They come, they invade me. Strikes me like lightning.

The white lady. The brown sugar. The needle candy.
The horse junk scag shit smack coke snow skin-popping mainlining pill-popping ...

It´s like a poison. I know. You make love to the camera. You can´t stop, you get more and more obsessed with the camera. With yourself. The great manipulator. Vanity.

I feel she has the right hardness, the survival instincts.
The images of her are filled with that, the hard light, back alleys, filthy nails.
She looks like a young Twiggy on the bum. A heroine gypsy ... anorectic and depressed ... yeah, but strong! "