Disclaimer: Does anyone really think I own Moulin Rouge? I doubted it.
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Dear Father,
"You'll end up wasting your life at the Moulin Rouge with a cancan dancer," you told me. It is time I let you know what that comment has come to. And all I can say is, you were right about the cancan dancer.
I know I haven't written since I moved to Paris, and for that I am almost sorry. Two years goes by so quickly- yet also so slowly. And I need you to read this, and to be sympathetic. And to understand that you were wrong.
You told me entering the Bohemian revolution was like getting knocked off a roof; I'd wake up with only my talent and a sorry look in my eye. Instead, I made friends here that England doesn't even start to allow. Women of the Night, penniless painters, vice-ridden gnomes, and unconscious Argentineans- these are my friends, and Montemantre has become my home.
There was a spectacular play put on, which I wrote with my own two hands. Everyone who saw it was enchanted. I found the love of my life here as well, and nearly ran away with her. From my experience, I have written a book highlighting romance at the Moulin Rouge; it will be published, and unless it goes extremely badly it will make me rich- the publisher says it is solid gold.
As for the Moulin Rouge and my love, I admit she was one of the girls there. The Sparkling Diamond, Satine. I love her still, and always will. I long to join her, and feel her kiss ever upon my lips as a call to follow the footsteps. But thanks to her my life hasn't been such a waste: it revolves around a woman I truly love.
The Moulin Rouge has been taken down, but I was there when it was a theater- made for my play alone.
"You'll end up wasting your life at the Moulin Rouge with a cancan dancer," you told me. Yet there is no Moulin Rouge, and my life has been enriched by what I find here.
But you were right about the cancan dancer.
- Christian
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~**~
Dear Father,
"You'll end up wasting your life at the Moulin Rouge with a cancan dancer," you told me. It is time I let you know what that comment has come to. And all I can say is, you were right about the cancan dancer.
I know I haven't written since I moved to Paris, and for that I am almost sorry. Two years goes by so quickly- yet also so slowly. And I need you to read this, and to be sympathetic. And to understand that you were wrong.
You told me entering the Bohemian revolution was like getting knocked off a roof; I'd wake up with only my talent and a sorry look in my eye. Instead, I made friends here that England doesn't even start to allow. Women of the Night, penniless painters, vice-ridden gnomes, and unconscious Argentineans- these are my friends, and Montemantre has become my home.
There was a spectacular play put on, which I wrote with my own two hands. Everyone who saw it was enchanted. I found the love of my life here as well, and nearly ran away with her. From my experience, I have written a book highlighting romance at the Moulin Rouge; it will be published, and unless it goes extremely badly it will make me rich- the publisher says it is solid gold.
As for the Moulin Rouge and my love, I admit she was one of the girls there. The Sparkling Diamond, Satine. I love her still, and always will. I long to join her, and feel her kiss ever upon my lips as a call to follow the footsteps. But thanks to her my life hasn't been such a waste: it revolves around a woman I truly love.
The Moulin Rouge has been taken down, but I was there when it was a theater- made for my play alone.
"You'll end up wasting your life at the Moulin Rouge with a cancan dancer," you told me. Yet there is no Moulin Rouge, and my life has been enriched by what I find here.
But you were right about the cancan dancer.
- Christian