(Tim Murari’s interview appeared in the Guardian, 8/26; via Pam Green.)
An enchanting child opens the door, gravely extends her hand and says, “Bon jour Monsieur.” She isn’t more than 10, her hair curly and long, skin a pale porcelain brown, a delicate vivacious face which will outlast beauty, and inexhaustible energy that keeps her jumping on the bed as if it were a trampoline, until her mother, Josephine Baker, finishes her telephone call.
Miss Baker isn’t that easy to describe. Her head is covered with a blue polka dot turban and huge plastic rimmed dark glasses mask her face from eyebrow to lower cheek. The rest of her is swathed in a dressing gown. Though her eyes remain hidden, occasionally the sun penetrates the glass gloom to reflect a spark as she glances away, the rest of her body makes it very obvious that she’s tired. She leans back into the deep couch and continually keeps adjusting the pillows to make herself as comfortable as possible. It’s a task that never quite succeeds for her tiredness doesn’t appear short termed. It’s deeper than that.
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