I grew up believing I had the power to be invisible. They taught me that. And, later, when I was deciding whether to go away forever, or stay and hunt down happiness, He showed up. And it turned out my invisibility could help me slip out of one world, to take my place in the new one waiting for me in New York City in the heart of the 1980s.
••••••••
“Don’t we look pretty in pink,” said the odd little man with the white wig sitting next to me. So it would be that on my first night in my new city, Andy Warhol would be my welcome to life in that universe, where I would live just outside the frame, of the parties, the drugs, the sex, and the rock•n•roll. New York to London to Paris, Italy, Greece, Morocco, Brazil, and Cuba. No spot was forbidden when you could travel by private jet, no passport needed. Along the way, I had to learn to be the hero of my own story. And I’m still here. Claiming My TRUTH.
xoxo,
Cyd
