0395 Sunset Boulevard

I loved your stories of the old times - the endless journeys of the band bus, Judy with her black-eyed girl, the first action at each hotel the drawer taken from the chest, you laid in it; the band singer filling in between the famous stars; knowing the bridges between the famous verses which singers seem to love so much as if they're nearer private lives of songwriters who have lives; the visits to Stan Laurel, modest, bright-eyed, pining for his Oliver.. the glittering night-time life of wartime, almost-still-1930s of the Hollywood refugees; told by the not-quite-famous who performed in front of the famous; the time when thanks to you I spoke to Gloria Swanson on the phone.. I hear the footsteps of the high-heeled life; I smell the perfumes now no longer made. I thank you for all these and more. And if some of them were not quite true, then thank you for the care with which you told them; true dreams - dreamed truth.