Iquitos, 21 December 1980 I was supposed to get Claudia Cardinale settled in her hotel suite, which extended over two floors. As we entered the room, we noticed that on the upper floor, which could be reached only by way of a spiral staircase, a horse was standing, one of those noble Thoroughbreds, its bridle held by its jockey, a skinny, gnomish man. Klieg lights were set up because a commercial was being shot in the suite. We were told the room would be available shortly; we should go ahead and drop the luggage there. The word was—a rumor was flying around the hotel—that Cardinale’s bosom
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