If you've been reading the blog - read the book: http://www.amazon.com/Violet-Hour-Metaphysical-Love-Story-ebook/dp/B00L3R2DUY/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1403296303&sr=1-1&
The Violet Hour
Juilliard’s American Opera Center is the epicenter of intrigue that spans one blistering New York summer when three acclaimed musicians are murdered. Jasmine Dee, the most gifted soprano to attend the American Opera Center in the last century, becomes the focus of a supernatural feud that started in the Renaissance between Phisto, a vicious Vampire, and Luca a more rare spiritual but deadly supernatural.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Thursday, December 5, 2013
The Violet Hour - Chapter One
Violet Destiny
When I awaken this summer morning in Venice, I have no
premonition that I will be fighting for my life before tomorrow’s dawn; or that
my mentor and would- be lover, plans to kill me. Memories
of the last eight pain- filled years, like a pale puckered scar, remind me that
I have been able to heal, through music and love. Music
has always saved me, I think.
Several
hours later, before the violet dawn flushes a new day, I walk into the American
Opera Center theater theatre, in New York, to meet my lover, but really, the
stage has been set for my death.
I
rush into the theatretheater, only thinking
about his arms and his kiss. I halt briefly, noting that hundreds of
candles have been lit and the stage set for Violetta’s death scene in La Traviata.
I
call to my lover, and my voice echoes in the acoustical theater then fades into
silence. I have one thought, and that is to run, but
despite my instincts, I still hope that my beloved waits for me there, and my
legs move slowly towards the exit. Then his arms encircle my waist and his
breath, heavy with the rich scent of the fine vintage
1787 Bordeaux that we shared in better times, you could say, tickles my
ear. Immediately I realize that something has gone desperately wrong.
“Ah,
but you were expecting the other one. Sorry to disappoint, my dear. But you
will see that I am the better choice. I offer the better life.”
“You
just startled me,” I choke as my throat closes with fear. “Come, are you
chastising me for missing a rehearsal? Did I forget something?” I chide him lightly,
even though the words stick in my throat and my mouth is dry.
“Nothing
has been forgotten. This is the most important night of your life. Tonight, you
will truly be immortal. I offer you this, and fame. What girl has had such an
offer?”
He
turns me so that I gaze into his familiar face. I recognize the dark stubble that ripples
along his angular jaw and a wave of dark chocolate hair that falls into his
cobalt eyes, which are now steely.
“I’ve
been traveling all day,” I say. “It’s wonderful to see you, really. Can’t we
continue this tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is a day for beginnings, but tonight is for endings. Say goodbye to the mediocrity that shadows every step that humans take. Au revoir to servitude, and fear and folly. Tonight, you will become the queen of your life, and mine. Together we will rule the operatic stages of the world. Just a brief time of pain, and an eternity of song and power will follow.” He touches his cold lips to mine, and I feel ice bubbles run throughout my body.
“Tomorrow is a day for beginnings, but tonight is for endings. Say goodbye to the mediocrity that shadows every step that humans take. Au revoir to servitude, and fear and folly. Tonight, you will become the queen of your life, and mine. Together we will rule the operatic stages of the world. Just a brief time of pain, and an eternity of song and power will follow.” He touches his cold lips to mine, and I feel ice bubbles run throughout my body.
“Come, my dear. Have a drink with me. There is
no need to hurry. I have wanted to taste you since I first smelled your blood. It
is quite magnificent, you know, like your voice.”
He
leads me to the stage and I sink onto Violetta’s deathbed, praying that it will
not be mine.
“I
offer a toast, to our new union,” he says. “We will reign forever, Tseylulu.”[
I flinch at his pet name for me, which
translates as ‘I kiss you.’ He often shouted that during our rehearsals over
the past year, but now his vocal caress pounds in my ears, like a Lady Gaga
recording that is poorly synced. I am determined to hold onto another melody,
one that was written for me.
“I sought him whom my soul loveth: I
held him and I would not let him go.” The phrase from the Bible’s Song of
Solomon races through my mind. So, I am to be this monster’s immortal bride or
destroy the other man who has become my soul. This totally bites, I think, and
then choke back hysterical laughter.
I don’t answer, and my silence
enrages him. I feel a rush of wind flying past me, but it is I who fly across
the stage when the demon hurls me. My body feels mangled, and the harsh stage
floor thuds against my head before I lose consciousness. The last thing I hear
is my beloved’s music. It comes to me as through a mist. I hold onto that. I
will take that to my death. I think of the aria that my love wrote for me, “Questo
Il Mio Momento Finale”—the aria that I was cast to sing in the New York premier
of his opera, on this same stage—while another stabbing pain rocks my body. And
so I will not die alone, or in vain. My love and his music will survive. And
the world will be a better place for that…
Saturday, March 23, 2013
To End is But to Start - Juilliard's Curse
If I am to save Wendy and myself I must get to
the island of the dead before midnight. Phisto, my conductor, and lover, has
his cobalt eyes trained on my every movement now that I know what he
wants. I inhale deeply and sing the
fifth lied in Mahler’s Ruckert lieder, “Ich bin der welt abhanden gekommen,” for
my third encore. As I sing the exquisitely
painful words,
the now familiar
scent of lavender blooms and fills the packed church. The audience seems to fall into a trance as
they turn dreamily to identify the source.
They discreetly sniff themselves before they check out their neighbors.
But I know the source of the heady fragrance.
And I feel that this is the last time that I can sing this piece,
broken-hearted as I am. This is a bitch,
I think. All I want to do is sing my
last encore and then slip into my soft jeans and glide over the black waters of
the canal that will take me to his resting place. I want to lie on the cool earth beside his
sepulcher to see if he is the man that’s been obsessing my thoughts and
actions, or if it was some mad fantasy.
I move quickly after the curtain calls because I know that Phisto will
be following me. He suspects my love and
my intentions. I don’t have much time
and I need him to believe that I want his insane future as much as he. As if I think.
“I’m wiped tonight. I’m not up to dealing with a bunch of
hysterical Italians. Please explain for me.” Then I touch the conductor’s lips
so that he is not suspicious.
“I love you.” I say and calculate
how much time I have while I wait for Phisto’s response for he is always
punctilious.
He pauses, such a drama queen I think impatiently,
because I feel the weight of each lost second.
Then he traces my jaw and moves his hand down the curve of my neck to
the top of my right breast. His touch
freezes my skin, but I miss something else, the sensation of
fire that
follows. Did he ever do that to me or
did I just imagine it?
“You were brilliant. Your voice has grown like a mighty warrior’s
prowess, now you are the most powerful weapon on the stage. It’s a battle field
my dear. Don’t let the gowns and
sparkling jewels fool you.” He touches the yellow diamond necklace that he gave
me, now nestled in my throat, where I feel my rapid pulse. I see that his eyes
are fixed there. He is mesmerized by the
frenetic dance that he sees.
“I’ll be refreshed and waiting for
you later.” I turn and look over my bare
shoulder, “I’ll have my answer for you then, love. You won’t be disappointed.”
I turn and head towards my dressing
area but see that his SNAKE waits for me.
Not tonight I think and slip into the ladies room. I’ll have to go in my
concert gown. Not exactly the comfort
that I was looking for, but it will have to do.
Wendy is waiting for me outside.
We don’t have much time. It’s
almost midnight, the last half hour of November
2, the day that the Italians make pilgrimages to the Isola di San Michele where
their dead are buried.
I’ve bribed a gondolier who finally
agreed, after intensive haggling, to take me to the island of the dead. The Italians are very superstitious and no
living person is allowed to step onto the island after the sun has set.
“Affrettatevi
signorina. Non possiamo ritardare. Avete il resto dei soldi?
I hand him the balance of the money
and kick off my heels and step onto the rocking gondola. And now I
will cross over to the island to view the sepulcher of the man that I love, and
whom I am now sure, has returned my love.
The sky is a lush deep purple but the wind begins to gust and a flash of
lightening scars the sky the darkest violet. So he realizes that I’ve slipped away,
and he is angry, I think. I shiver in
the Fall Italian air and pull my hooded black velvet cape more closely to my
body. I know that I love the composer’s
music and perhaps that is all of him that I will ever have. And I acknowledge
that it has, in some ways, been enough.
“Chill Wen, this was your idea.”
“One thing in theory,” she says and
huddles against me as the gondola bucks in the angry winds.”
The gondolier begins to lose it and
yammers about the weather and how we have disturbed the dead. I hand him another 250 euros and tell him to
calm down. I barely hop off the gondola
with my heels in my left hand, before he pushes off. Another flash of
lightening illumines his terrified face as he makes the sign of the cross
against his straining chest. I panic
then because without him we are stranded here until morning. I reach for Wendy’s hand, it is cold and she
is uncharacteristically quiet. I can see
her fear as well as her determination.
My black sequined gown glows in the eerie night shadows and I think that
I must look like the bride of some demon. Better this than the bride of the
other one, I think. Wendy and I switch
on our flashlights and consult the hand scrawled map that the gondolier had
given me earlier. It directs us to
Luca’s grave.
I abandon my shoes entirely and my
Donna Karan stockings hold up valiantly before they tear against a stone.
“Ouch, this is like some bad 1930’s
horror flick,” I say
“Yes, but then we’d have a film crew
and they’d have some freakin transportation back to the living.”
“Good point. Stop, do you smell that? I ask.
“What are you… you mean the”
“What are you… you mean the”
“Yes the musky lavender scent. He is here.
Dead nor not, he will protect us.
I’d bet my life on it.” I reiterate.
“Uh, news flash, you are betting our
lives on it.”
“It’s okay, Wen. Promise. I wouldn’t put you in danger.”
She squeezes my hand and we follow
the map with our flashlights trained in the same direction. This is the path that will lead me to him,
finally, after a year has passed and another Fall is upon us.
“This must be it,” I say and move
the flashlight to read the name on the massive ornate mausoleum.
“There it is, Cantanta.” Wendy screams.
As for me, I’m filled with warmth
and terror. What if I’ve been wrong?
What if he was just a brilliant composer who fed my fantasies, and somehow
triggered my post-traumatic stress disorder that I’d suffered from after my
parents were killed? I pull myself
together and raise my flashlight.
Someone has affixed photos of him to the sheer surface of the stone. Those eyes, those lips. My body feels heavy and it’s difficult to
move, but perhaps it is only the weight of my longing. Then I see something else, a bouquet of
purple flowers, they are fresh so someone must have left them earlier
today. I can’t identify them but they
fill me with dread and I almost drop my flashlight.
I turn to choke down the bile in my
throat when I feel him, as close to me as my skin. My body seems to have no bones and melds in
perfect symmetry with his. His lips
caress my ear and his sound is a melody that interprets the jumble in my
soul. He speaks of love, but I know that
doesn’t exist. Those whom I have loved
are now dead. Only memories remain, like
dried blood on a white carpet, a dark scar against a once unsullied tapestry,
ruined forever.
“We will never be parted again.” His
voice caresses my throat.
I turn my mouth towards his lips.
Since he won’t stop lying, I silence his voice.
He takes my face between his
well-formed, muscular hands and I glimpse the violet in his eyes before I close
mine. He covers my mouth with his and
even though death invades our private moment, I feel as though I am no stranger
here. My mind fills with the sound of
his aria, the one that now forever links us in fame’s fickle web. His arms hold
my weight as I drift on the beauty that he created. The sound and his kiss deepen until I gasp
for air. But I make no effort to
retreat. He is what I have longed for
and since I can not find him in life, I will follow him through death.
There is not much time left and I
struggle to tell him that I love him, that I have always loved him. And I close my eyes welcoming the serenity
that will follow.
But
we are torn apart and I realize, as my lungs fill with sweet air, that he is
fighting for our lives. The soft earth
is covered in blood. But I don’t want to
fight anymore. I want to follow him to a
world beyond this. I want the calm that
will silence the voices and the loss. I want to make sure that Wendy is safe
and then, I want to go home.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Fame's Seduction - Power's Control
Lorenzo led us to the magnificent Cappella dei Magi, one of the crowning jewels of the palace. For a moment I lost even the image of Fiora’s eyes. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the frescoes painted by Benozzo Gozzoli, one of the most gifted 'equine' Medieval painters, (and disciple of the famous Florentine painter of angels, Fra Angelico). I began to understand how wealth and power could seduce a man.
“I should like to have you write a Motet for my niece’s wedding. You may remember the young woman who sang for you last night.”
My mind returned to the young woman with a protruding nose and mediocre voice at best.
“Yes, very accomplished,” I managed.
“We would like to cultivate her voice. It is an accomplishment when used in the right setting. I think that you will be an admirable composer for her talent.”
“I am honored, naturally. And I am at your service. May I suggest another talented singer with whom we can work? Fiora di Moretti. You heard her sing last night.”
“Yes, a remarkable voice to be sure. I should like to consider that. But this commission will feature my niece.”
“Isn’t she the bride?”
“Yes.”
“Would it not be preferable for her to enjoy her wedding feast and to sing for another ceremony?”
“I am a family man and given to indulgence. This is her request and a small one. She wants to present it as a gift to her husband. Romantic notion isn’t it?”
Cesco’s words wrapped through my head. I hadn’t even begun to ponder how I was now able to hear him. I’d assumed that we were so well acquainted that I could imagine every word that he would utter. But that was not the case. His conversation resided in my head. I’d only to look into his intense eyes to verify the messages that he sent me.
Violet Destiny Chapter One - Death by Music
Jasmine
When I awaken this summer morning in Venice, I have no premonition that I will be fighting for my life before tomorrow’s dawn; or that my mentor and friend, plans to kill me. Memories of the last eight pain filled years, like a pale puckered scar, remind me that I have been able to heal, through music and love. Music has always saved me, I think.
Several hours later, before the violet dawn flushes a new day, I walk into the American Opera Center theatre, in New York, to meet my lover, but really, the stage has been set for my death.
I rush into the theatre, only thinking about his arms and his kiss. I halt briefly noting that hundreds of candles have been lit and the stage set for Violetta’s death scene in La Traviata.
I call to my lover and my voice echoes in the acoustical theatre then fades into silence. I have one thought, and that is to run, but despite my instincts, I still hope that my beloved waits for me there, and my legs move slowly towards the exit. Then his arms encircle my waist and his breath, heavy with the rich scent of the 1787 Bordeaux Chateaux Lafitte that we shared in better times, you could say, tickles my ear. Immediately I accept that something has gone desperately wrong.
“Ah but you were expecting the other one. Sorry to disappoint my dear. But you will see that I am the better choice. I offer the better life.”
“You just startled me,” I choke through my throat that is closing with fear. “Come, are you chastising me for missing a rehearsal? Did I forget something?” I chide lightly, even though the words stick in my throat and my mouth is dry.
“Nothing has been forgotten. This is the most important night of your life. Tonight, you will truly be immortal. I offer you this, and fame. What girl has had such an offer?”
He turns me so that I face his well-known face. I recognize the dark stubble that ripples along his angular jaw, and a wave of dark chocolate hair that falls into his cobalt eyes, that are now steely.
“I’ve been traveling all day. It’s wonderful to see you, really. Can’t we continue this tomorrow?” I ask.
“Tomorrow is a day for beginnings, but tonight is for endings. Say goodbye to the mediocrity that shadows every step that humans take. Au Revoir to servitude, and fear and folly. Tonight, you will become the queen of your life, and mine. Together we will rule the operatic stages of the world. Just a brief time of pain and an eternity of song and power will follow.” He touches his cold lips to mine and I feel ice bubbles run throughout my body.
“Tomorrow is a day for beginnings, but tonight is for endings. Say goodbye to the mediocrity that shadows every step that humans take. Au Revoir to servitude, and fear and folly. Tonight, you will become the queen of your life, and mine. Together we will rule the operatic stages of the world. Just a brief time of pain and an eternity of song and power will follow.” He touches his cold lips to mine and I feel ice bubbles run throughout my body.
“Come, my dear. Have a drink with me. There is no need to hurry. I have wanted to taste you since I first smelled your blood. It is quite magnificent, you know, like your voice.”
He leads me to the stage and I sink onto Violetta’s deathbed, praying that it will not be mine.
“I offer a toast, to our new union. We will reign forever, Целую, (Tseylulu).”
I flinch at his pet name for me that translates as ‘I kiss you.’ He often shouted that during our rehearsals over the past year, but now his vocal caress pounds in my ears, like a Lady Gaga recording that is poorly synced. I am determined to hold onto another melody, one that was written for me.
“I sought him who my soul loveth: I held him and I would not let him go.” The phrase from the Bible’s Song of Solomon races through my mind. So, I am to be this monster’s immortal bride or destroy the other man who has become my soul. This totally bites, I think and then choke back hysterical laughter.
I don’t answer and my silence enrages him. I feel a rush of wind flying past me, but it is I who fly across the stage where the demon hurls me. My body feels mangled and the harsh stage floor thuds against my head before I lose consciousness. The last thing I hear is my beloved’s music. It comes to me as through a mist. I hold onto that. I will take that to my death. “Questo il mio momento finale,” I think of the aria that my love wrote for me, the aria that I was cast to sing in the New York premier of his opera, on this same stage, and another stabbing pain rocks my body. And so I will not die alone, or in vain. My love and his music will survive. And the world will be a better place for that…
Friday, January 18, 2013
Santa - Jasmine's Golden Shaded Persian Talks About Vampayre Luca
Santa - Jasmine's Golden Shaded Persian Talks About Vampayre Luca
I heard Luca in Jasmine's thoughts before he entered her life for the second time. Flashes of violet overtook me as I played with the potted ficus tree that turned towards the sun at the edge of our living room. Luca's energy filled me with wonder as I heard his music and remembered my days on the stage in my last incarnation.
Jasmine's sound was woven into the notes and the rests that he notated carefully. He wrote for Jasmine, I knew. As I knew that her music would also attract the other one - the dark one - Phisto, a Vampire. The fourth trial was upon them and that is why I'd re-entered this sluggish earth plane so that I could assist Jasmine at this pivotal moment. Such was her young life that she didn't trust humans and so I entered in a form that would reassure and comfort her. I'd been a beautiful and feted woman in my day and was grateful at least that I retained my blonde hair and had luminous green eyes that saw everything - everything.
As Luca drew closer so did Phisto. My eyes would widen as I stared into the abyss that was his soul. You understand that he didn't think that he was evil. Evil does not think in those terms. Phisto believed that his choice were wise and prudent. Each choice bought him nigh his goal and that is all that he desired. Now he desires Jasmine. Phisto knows that she is Luca's love and understands that her talent will heighten his fame and vanquish his enemy.
And so I watch and I wait as I enter Jasmine's dreams offering messages that I hope she will interpret and not ignore. I love Jasmine and Luca so I must remain vigilant. I would offer my life for their safety but that will not clear the debt. And so my journey continues, parallels hers.
I heard Luca in Jasmine's thoughts before he entered her life for the second time. Flashes of violet overtook me as I played with the potted ficus tree that turned towards the sun at the edge of our living room. Luca's energy filled me with wonder as I heard his music and remembered my days on the stage in my last incarnation.
Jasmine's sound was woven into the notes and the rests that he notated carefully. He wrote for Jasmine, I knew. As I knew that her music would also attract the other one - the dark one - Phisto, a Vampire. The fourth trial was upon them and that is why I'd re-entered this sluggish earth plane so that I could assist Jasmine at this pivotal moment. Such was her young life that she didn't trust humans and so I entered in a form that would reassure and comfort her. I'd been a beautiful and feted woman in my day and was grateful at least that I retained my blonde hair and had luminous green eyes that saw everything - everything.
As Luca drew closer so did Phisto. My eyes would widen as I stared into the abyss that was his soul. You understand that he didn't think that he was evil. Evil does not think in those terms. Phisto believed that his choice were wise and prudent. Each choice bought him nigh his goal and that is all that he desired. Now he desires Jasmine. Phisto knows that she is Luca's love and understands that her talent will heighten his fame and vanquish his enemy.
And so I watch and I wait as I enter Jasmine's dreams offering messages that I hope she will interpret and not ignore. I love Jasmine and Luca so I must remain vigilant. I would offer my life for their safety but that will not clear the debt. And so my journey continues, parallels hers.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
It's in the Vampayre's Kiss
When I was thirteen my parents plunged to their deaths while driving the Amalfi Coast. How could I have known that the country that had taken my parents would give me my greatest love and held truths about my past lives that I wasn't then ready to confront?
I stopped speaking for six months when my grandfather, Grappa, a well known biotech entrepreneur, heard me humming one evening and then subsequent evenings. That had become my only pattern of communication after my parents' death. He tried to join my shadow world and held me late into the unfolding nights, humming songs that were popular during the 1940's. I remained frozen in my midnight melodies, unable to reach out in any meaningful way. Then he had a flash of insight and took me to a famous voice teacher. Renee bought me back to life and realized that I had a world class talent simply through my breath work, humming and physiognomy. My greatest tragedy would bring me my greatest triumphs, a love that felt like it transpired time, and my most brilliant heartache.
"You don't want me to audition for your opera?" I asked Luca, avoiding the deeper purple tones that belied his impatience and concern.
"This role should go to someone who is already well known. You will have time to prepare for the European premiere and you and I can work together then." He answered with a level tone.
"You mean it will keep me away from Phisto." I answered with more edge than I'd intended.
"His influence on your music has been, in my opinion, destructive." He reached for my hand but stopped and bent his head. Violet eyes were hidden by the shadows that the candle cast across the table.
"He believes in me." I retorted.
"As do I." He managed and I knew that his temper had ignited.
"Why do you want to delay my success? A premiere in Europe is nice, but it's not New York, now is it?"
"It is better this way. What does he encourage but big sound and dramatic phrasing? Tools for the career not for the artistic development. I want you to sing for your soul, not for the paycheck."
"Then you'll be paying my bills." I said unkindly. I watched his mouth move as he responded and remembered how it had felt just hours before. Why did Phisto's existence create such problems for us? It was as though Luca hated him.
"I'll support you in any way. I hope that you know that."
"Grappa has said that he will support me for only a few more months. I need to start my career now, not in six months. I'll be waiting table by then."
"Let me help you." His dark beard created a sculpted shadow across his face, highlighting high cheekbones and a sensual mouth
"Allow me to help myself by giving me the New York debut."
"It's not possible. I'm sorry," he said, and stood abruptly, overturning his chair as he reached for me. His lips were on mine and I felt him once again take me to a familiar land where only saftey and desire existed, danced like well loved partners, came together, released and then joined again with seamless efforts. I felt as though we burned castles in the air and that the tidal waves responded to our rhythm.
I had to understand why he opposed my starring in the New York debut. I didn't realize that my life depended on it
I stopped speaking for six months when my grandfather, Grappa, a well known biotech entrepreneur, heard me humming one evening and then subsequent evenings. That had become my only pattern of communication after my parents' death. He tried to join my shadow world and held me late into the unfolding nights, humming songs that were popular during the 1940's. I remained frozen in my midnight melodies, unable to reach out in any meaningful way. Then he had a flash of insight and took me to a famous voice teacher. Renee bought me back to life and realized that I had a world class talent simply through my breath work, humming and physiognomy. My greatest tragedy would bring me my greatest triumphs, a love that felt like it transpired time, and my most brilliant heartache.
"You don't want me to audition for your opera?" I asked Luca, avoiding the deeper purple tones that belied his impatience and concern.
"This role should go to someone who is already well known. You will have time to prepare for the European premiere and you and I can work together then." He answered with a level tone.
"You mean it will keep me away from Phisto." I answered with more edge than I'd intended.
"His influence on your music has been, in my opinion, destructive." He reached for my hand but stopped and bent his head. Violet eyes were hidden by the shadows that the candle cast across the table.
"He believes in me." I retorted.
"As do I." He managed and I knew that his temper had ignited.
"Why do you want to delay my success? A premiere in Europe is nice, but it's not New York, now is it?"
"It is better this way. What does he encourage but big sound and dramatic phrasing? Tools for the career not for the artistic development. I want you to sing for your soul, not for the paycheck."
"Then you'll be paying my bills." I said unkindly. I watched his mouth move as he responded and remembered how it had felt just hours before. Why did Phisto's existence create such problems for us? It was as though Luca hated him.
"I'll support you in any way. I hope that you know that."
"Grappa has said that he will support me for only a few more months. I need to start my career now, not in six months. I'll be waiting table by then."
"Let me help you." His dark beard created a sculpted shadow across his face, highlighting high cheekbones and a sensual mouth
"Allow me to help myself by giving me the New York debut."
"It's not possible. I'm sorry," he said, and stood abruptly, overturning his chair as he reached for me. His lips were on mine and I felt him once again take me to a familiar land where only saftey and desire existed, danced like well loved partners, came together, released and then joined again with seamless efforts. I felt as though we burned castles in the air and that the tidal waves responded to our rhythm.
I had to understand why he opposed my starring in the New York debut. I didn't realize that my life depended on it
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