April 20, 2010:
She wanted to drink in bars, smoke cigarettes, strike beautiful poses. She had that peculiar insecure gregariousness: she wanted to be looked at, to be accepted, but wanted it a little too much, so that there was always an aura of desperation.
I wanted to read. Or have dinner and beers with one or two close friends in a quiet place where we could talk, which meant, where I could ask questions and listen.
From the beginning we wanted different lives, and that, I think, was the heart of it.