Hey sis,
I’m finding the kitchen more and more of a refuge for my increasingly more hectic life. Yesterday I learned to make mom’s ratatouille and renoit grapes pancakes.
Now that my secret appears to be out, the paparazzi are following me everywhere. I can’t even play in front of the theater without someone taking pictures of it.
“I don’t know if this will make you feel any better,” my boss said, “but I took a vacation in China recently, in an attempt to escape this, and the paparazzi followed me there and took pictures of me while I dined at the eatery in Shang Simla. They’re ever-present. It’s something you have to get used to. Once you choose this life, your privacy is gone, forever.”
I took a deep breath. My public awaits.
I’m just hoping that when all the lights dim and the cameras go away, that I’ll still be the same person. Like dad was, I’m told. There’s no way you can prepare for being famous and all that comes with it. I mean, mom and dad told me some things – but things are different even from their time. So much more media attention. There’s no way that you’re not changed in some way because of all this.
Love, Bassy
No comments:
Post a Comment