The Medvedeva woman was impossible as everybody knows. She was prone to bouts of drunkedness, fits of hysteria, you name it. She was awkward, did not know how to fit into society, she was ready to love or hate passionately at the drop of a hat; she was, as it is well documented, an exhibitionist. She was also a good singer, a lonely girl, a dedicated artist, a beautiful babe, and, binges notwithstanding, a faithful woman in her own weird way. I got married to her in 1985 so she could stay in Paris and live with whoever she wanted, and although I did not put one shred of faith in this “wedding” apart from the bond of friendship (we never slept together), she did, as it turned out.
I found out about her death while on an extended stay in New York. (more…)
April 14th, 2015 | Comments (1)