In an article on Guy Maddin in Libération, I learned that Olivia de Havilland was still alive and living in Paris. the working girl who sleeps fetish (very little) in me woke up: I had to know where she lived, I dragged underneath her and I told him my admiration for what it is and fantasy era it evokes.
(Besides, simply type its name in the white pages for his address and phone!). The meet, to see a project ... pathetic but I love those moments "purple rose of cairo" where the world into two dimensional film enters my reality. It's the same impulse that makes me bring fetish Los Angeles leaf shrub of the apartment of Naomi Watts in Mullholland Drive.
A small relic to remind me that "life is cinema."
(I wonder how many other glories are thus reachable: "Hello, I would be put in touch with Lauren Bacal, please ...")
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