Bunuel_Luis_My_Last_Breath

It all began with a mistake."A fantastic woman is in town!" Dali announced to me excitedlyone day.We all had a drink together that evening, and the French partydecided to walk us back to Dali's house. Gala was walking next tome, and on our way we talked of various trivial things. At one point,I found myself saying that what repelled me more than anything elsein the female anatomy was when a woman had a large space betweenher thighs. The next day we all went swimming, and, to my embarrassment,I saw that Gala had just this unfortunate physical attribute.And Dali was transformed. Our ideas clashed to such an extentthat we finally stopped collaborating on L'Age d'or. It was a completemetamorphosis. All he could talk about was Gala; he echoed everyword she uttered. Eluard and the Belgians left a few days later, butGala and Ckcile remained behind. One day we all went in a rowboatfor a picnic among the rocks with Lidia, a fisherman's wife, and Isaid to Dali that the view reminded me of a Sorolla (a rather mediocrepainter from Valencia)."How can you bear to say such stupid things!" Gala shouted atme. "And in the presence of such gorgeous rocks!"By the time the picnic was over, we'd all had a great deal todrink. I've forgotten what the argument was about, but Gala wasattacking me with her usual ferocity when I suddenly leapt to myfeet, threw her to the ground, and began choking her. Little Ckcilewas terrified and ran to hide in the rocks with Lidia. Dali fell to hisknees and begged me to stop; I was in a blind rage, but I knew Iwasn't going to kill her. Strange as it may seem, all I wanted wasto see the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Finally, I let go, andtwo days later she left.Later, she, Eluard, and I lived for a time in the same hoteloverlooking Montparnasse Cemetery. People said that Eluard neverleft his room without his pearl-handled revolver because Gala hadtold him that I wanted to kill her. If I'm giving you all this back-