I run my hands over my dark brown arms. Is the reason that Satine didn't
think of me as more than a friend?
But I know in my heart that Satine's true love was Christian, but I don't hate him for it.
Instead, I am secretly glad that Satine's last few minutes were happy. She died in the arms of the man she loved.
I sometimes wonder if Satine is smiling down on us from heaven, a Christian belief which I particularly enjoy the notion of.
You see, I was a third generation slave. Both my grandparents and parents were captured, and I was brought up a catholic my by parent's old master. When he died I took to the streets of Paris, finally finding the Moulin Rouge and earning my name.
Chocolat, for the colour of my skin.
Life after death. I hope that when Christian dies, he goes to see Satine, but it seems he has died already, but is still chained to this earth by flesh and blood.
I like to remember back, when I adored Satine from afar. But there is a dark cloud over those memories.
When Satine fell, it was like my entire world had fallen apart. I leapt forward and caught her, but in my mind's eye I could see her skull smashed on the hard floor, her beautiful red hair clotted with blood. I looked up to Zidler's eyes and he motioned for me to take her backstage, where to my intense relief, she woke up.
But then there is another dark memory; me punching the duke to stop him raping her. For Satine to be degraded that way was to me like smashing a statue of the Virgin Mary. Unthinkable. Blasphemous, even.
So I took her to the only man I thought cared for her (apart fro me.) Christian.
He was going to take her away, and I felt a huge stab of jealousy. I loved her as much as he did, and if she went away, she would belong only to him.
You might think,
"What's the difference between him and the duke?"
But with the duke I knew Satine would never really love him. She would still stay at the Moulin Rouge, and there would be a slight chance she might be able to love me.
But then I remembered what Satine did. She was called a courtesan, but really all she was doing was whoring herself. And Christian would put a stop to that.
And then, the final curtain; Satine's death.
When she died, Christian died. And in a way, I died too.
But I know in my heart that Satine's true love was Christian, but I don't hate him for it.
Instead, I am secretly glad that Satine's last few minutes were happy. She died in the arms of the man she loved.
I sometimes wonder if Satine is smiling down on us from heaven, a Christian belief which I particularly enjoy the notion of.
You see, I was a third generation slave. Both my grandparents and parents were captured, and I was brought up a catholic my by parent's old master. When he died I took to the streets of Paris, finally finding the Moulin Rouge and earning my name.
Chocolat, for the colour of my skin.
Life after death. I hope that when Christian dies, he goes to see Satine, but it seems he has died already, but is still chained to this earth by flesh and blood.
I like to remember back, when I adored Satine from afar. But there is a dark cloud over those memories.
When Satine fell, it was like my entire world had fallen apart. I leapt forward and caught her, but in my mind's eye I could see her skull smashed on the hard floor, her beautiful red hair clotted with blood. I looked up to Zidler's eyes and he motioned for me to take her backstage, where to my intense relief, she woke up.
But then there is another dark memory; me punching the duke to stop him raping her. For Satine to be degraded that way was to me like smashing a statue of the Virgin Mary. Unthinkable. Blasphemous, even.
So I took her to the only man I thought cared for her (apart fro me.) Christian.
He was going to take her away, and I felt a huge stab of jealousy. I loved her as much as he did, and if she went away, she would belong only to him.
You might think,
"What's the difference between him and the duke?"
But with the duke I knew Satine would never really love him. She would still stay at the Moulin Rouge, and there would be a slight chance she might be able to love me.
But then I remembered what Satine did. She was called a courtesan, but really all she was doing was whoring herself. And Christian would put a stop to that.
And then, the final curtain; Satine's death.
When she died, Christian died. And in a way, I died too.