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Paperback
First published January 1, 1979
The natural eyelashes, so long and arched that they appeared false, shaded eyes inordinately wide open. In her dreams she had just met a grotesquely fat doctor dressed in formal attire who hung up his top hat, proceeded to put on white rubber gloves, then came toward her as she lay stretched out on gigantic wads of cotton, and with a scalpel began to cut open her chest, revealing – instead of a heart – complex clockwork like machinery. It was a mechanical doll, and a broken one, not a sick woman, who lay there possibly dying.
It’s frightening to think about certain things, the devil for example, even if one doesn’t believe. Having to leave everything, country, friends, because the devil crosses your path.
I beg of you that on our return to Hollywood we visit my analyst. Placing yourself in his care would enable us to uncover the unknown, we could even undertake joint analysis, as a couple, and so from the start we wouldn’t hold secrets from each other. I would know everything, absolutely everything, about you and you about me. Do you promise me you’ll do it? That way you’ll give me positive proof of your love.