We haunted foreign film festivals, viewed the works of Bresson ("Le Filou"), Carné, Eisenstein, Buñuel, Fritz Lang. She assigned me book... to read, and we discussed Goethe, Stendhal, and Balzac. We talked far into the night, and sometimes fell asleep in each other's arms, too fatigued to make love.And there were the long walks in Central Park, the picnics on the lawn by the statue of Sigismund Wasa, mounted, in full battle armor, with crossed swords over his head. "He was king of. The moment had arrived. It was time to model my lingerie.4.My vision blurred as I strode reluctantly into the middle of theparlour. Hot tears streaked down my cheeks; I had never felt so utterdegraded in my entire life. Here I was, surrounded by a gaggle of oldmaids, clapping and leering with delight. I shimmied my pelvis from sideto side, sauntering around in a wide circle, allowing everyone a close-up view of my gauzy blue underwear. I felt trapped, cornered, exposed:practically nothing was. More

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