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MEMOIRS
/ diary pages Itīs been a week. A long week. A real nightmare. First I had
to escape from Carolina, the captain refused to help me. "A woman´s
got to know the rules." Then I ran into Mark. I sat on my bag at the pier in Marseille. Hiding behind my shades. He took my picture and started to tell me about a whole new life. He could get me into fashion magazines. Into movies. Anything. How naive, totally naive ! I needed the place, somewhere to stay. And he was really nice. First. Told me I looked like an ice princess !!! He rented this small house in the back of a mansion on CoteīdīAzur. It was dark and smelly. But the beach was only fifty steps away !! He showed me paper clippings of Nancy Spungeon, called her "a punk queen". "She was very glamouros" he said. Talked about other famous people he had taken pictures of. They were all dead. He kept talking about pictures he wanted to take of me. About needles and pins and tatoos. After three days of this I´d had it. I walked away. Followed the beach until I found a railway station. And left. "
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MEMORIES / Stills Hard light, close-ups of needle points and blood pumped veins. Dirty table with junk paraphenalia. Sirenge, spoon, matches. Annas face, pale and skinny. Black heavy make-up, mascara around closed eyes. Smashed water-bottle, Perrier, on floor. Foot-prints in blackened blood. |