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Merci Juliette Binoche

The girl committed suicide:

O n would crawl into her lap, chrysalis wet it melt, curl up in its milk, flesh light . It would be splashed with his childish laugh, feel his hand on his long, thin skin, falling asleep in his languid vocals, everything is suggested, so close, so close.

Penetrated a female who would heal the abandonment, injuries, insults, looks heavy in the run, she donated herself. Everything is calculated, but everything is given freely. Is leaving his body sway to tangible, the girl committed suicide was not his account of love. She sailed throwing everything into the sea

She writes in his notes:

"My dreams are too intimate to Be Revealed in public." ("My dreams are too intimate to be publicly disclosed.") You want to remain silent and to imagine his dreams. What are your dreams Marilyn? What is Your Dream? Would it be other than what you imagined?

capsized his hope work, she found some bridges possible to avoid dying. His taste for perfectionism, she dropped the bridle, preferring the truth of acting classes, psychoanalysis sessions, readings, friendships. Relief is the buoys are made more and deeper contrasts become stronger, there was still time to reach? She says she can never be happy, but she knows to be gay. She wanted to engender itself, reborn, focus on independence, the way an artist. Her power, she saw, but the die was cast.

She lost; but there is something ever given, ever won. "I feel like I'm Not Existing In The Human Race at all." ("I feel like if I did not at all part of humanity.") Marilyn is of a different nature, a comet whose hair still releases its dust;

each of its echoes in whispers the vast, black sky sparkles forever its suns.

You are infinite.

Juliette Binoche about Marilyn Monroe

Book World, October 8, 2010