Bunuel_Luis_My_Last_Breath

y hand. Inside each spot I wrote a series of sentences which if placedend to end, and acted upon, would have produced a four-hundredthousand-dollarspectacle. (The full text was published later in LeSuwh/isme au service de la &olution.) One spot described "an orchestraof one hundred musicians playing Die WalkGe in a basement"; anothersimply stated "Christ is laughing hysterically."We set up the giraffe in the garden of the Abbaye St.-Bernardon the de Noailles estate; and before going in to dinner, each guestwas allowed to climb a ladder and read the spots. After coffee,Giacometti and I wandered back out into the garden, only to discoverthat our work of art had vanished without a trace! Had this been onescandal too many? (I still have no idea what happened to it, and,oddly enough, Charles and Marie-Laure never once mentioned it tome.)The de Noailles' house party continued for several days, untilfinally Roger Desormikre, the conductor, left for Monte Carlo toconduct the first performance of the new Ballet Russe. He invitedme to come along, and a large group of guests escorted us to thestation."Watch out for the ballerinas," one of them warned me. "They'reyoung, they're innocent, they earn next to nothing, and at least oneof them always winds up pregnant."During the two-hour trip, I lapsed into my habitual fantasiesthistime of a bevy of dancers in black stockings sitting side by sideon a row of chairs, facing me, like a harem, awaiting my commands.When I pointed to one, she stood up and approached meekly, untilI suddenly changed my mind. I wanted another one, just as submissive.Rocked by the movement of the train, I found no obstaclesto my erotic daydreams.As usual, the reality was somewhat different. One of the dancerswas Desormi&re's special friend, and after the first performance wedecided to go to a nightclub for a drink. A very pretty White Russianballerina was found for me, and, once at the club, everything seemedto be proceeding quite smoothly. Desormiere and his girlfriend went