Monologues of Hollywood actresses living in seclusion in Manhattan

Grace mcdowell, female, 85 years old, white

Hollywood movie stars in the 1930s.

Dear advertiser:

Hello. No matter who you are, male or female, always young, I have to declare in advance that I have not contacted anyone for many years, and I am not used to talking to others except my pet. So please forgive me if this letter is written backwards and difficult to understand. I have lived in seclusion for most of my life, so the anonymous suggestion in your advertisement is just what I want, otherwise I would never leave the following sentence.

One morning a week ago, I woke up to find that Sergei, a parrot who has been with me for decades, didn't say to me, "You got up late again!" " "I was surprised to see the big wooden cage by its window and saw it lying motionless inside. Sergei stands on a thick stick in a cage every day. Turquoise and red feathers are the most familiar colors for decades, but they were scattered at the bottom of the cage that day, forming a desolate scene I have never seen before. I knew for a long time that only death could defeat Sergei. At that moment, I clearly felt the fact that I would leave this world at any time. Sergei and I are both over 80 years old. When I bought him, he was 40 years old, only four years older than when I began to live in seclusion. The feeling of leaving is like a hand touching me gently. It's not heavy, but it's certain.

I'm not afraid of death. I have no good reason to continue the rest of my life. Death is a relief for me, a kind of sleep that will never wake up, and finally I can forget everything. According to my temper and habits all my life, I will never share my life with anyone, without exception. I just want to live quietly before I die and disappear quietly after I die. But your little advertisement made me change my mind. It's a miracle. I am about to leave the earth where I have lived for more than 80 years. I think being reserved and opinionated is not as important to me as it used to be. At the moment, I am just an old woman who looks mediocre or even ugly, an ordinary person who will become a dead body at any time. You are right. A person may have something to say before he dies, but he can't say it, and I am no exception. Since your little advertisement unexpectedly provided me with an opportunity, I will make good use of it. What reassures me is that no matter what you do with this letter, it doesn't matter much, because your anonymous suggestion makes people don't know who I really am, except for invalid speculation. Let it be a mystery, which is exactly what I hope. I dictated this letter and typed it for me by my maid and my lifelong friend Jill. When I am dying, what I want to say most is that I am very dissatisfied with my neglected life. It's not worth mentioning, but it will pass anyway. I made two irretrievable wrong choices in my life, which became a fatal regret that tortured me every day for the rest of my life, which is also the reason why I chose to film and live in seclusion at the most popular time.

The first unforgivable mistake I made was that I was bewitched by fame and fortune and didn't listen to the request of the most important person in my life, which led to the most terrible consequence and made him die prematurely. I spent the rest of my life away from all fame and fortune and living an ascetic life to punish myself, but I couldn't offset the deep guilt accumulated inside. Therefore, I hate all people who ask me why I took pictures. They are all curious about my private life. How can I allow myself to be used to entertain others in this matter that is too personal, too painful and more important than life? That's why I later refused to associate with everyone. The human heart is the most beautiful thing in the world and the ugliest thing. I used to see someone in the newspaper who didn't understand why I left the screen without mercy and said that I had wasted my unparalleled charm and beauty (I wish they would come to see me now! ) and these are just other people's ideas, which have nothing to do with me, that is to say, no one knows me. For me, lovelorn is more important than anything else; Compared with it, all glory, fame and fortune are just dust. After the untimely death of the only person I ever loved, my world collapsed from the inside. Too much regret and guilt made me decide not to marry for life. I knew before I retired that I couldn't have "love" for anyone in my life, and even if I did, I ended in failure without exception.

The second fatal mistake I made in the first half of my life was to forget my own nature and agree to play comedy. I grew up only familiar with loneliness. Happiness always scares me. I've never been used to it. Loneliness and pain are my innate persistent companions, and I am destined to play a tragedy. But I later violated this fact that has been proved many times, so I suffered a fiasco. It completely destroyed my expectations and recognition of my self-image, and I can't forgive my thoughtlessness and vanity-they are not part of my nature. People can't resist fate. What others can do, what I do is suffering, which is a fatal trap.

I am an extremely sensitive and dignified person, and these two fatal choices make me feel extremely ashamed and humiliated, so I can only use seclusion to resist any possible external harm, which is also the only choice to punish myself. I want to say that love is the only feeling worth experiencing, and people should not refuse and miss it for any reason! But don't mistake eroticism for love. When true love comes, miracles will happen, and a loving person will be endowed with immortal divinity that only God can have! Even though love may no longer exist, it may disappear in the future, but people who have never experienced it seem to have never really lived. Every ordinary and boring day is worth remembering, because most of people's lives are wasted, just to make a living. Before meeting the only person I love in my life, I only know loneliness and poverty, loneliness and inferiority. It was his love that changed everything for me and made me reborn completely. I always believe that love is the only experience that makes life worthwhile.

I lived in seclusion in new york for decades. I don't want anyone to know or see me. I seldom associate with people and never answer the phone. I just want to spend the rest of my life in peace. The noisy neon lights in this city are always inseparable from the bottomless loneliness. Fortunately, my maid Jill and parrot Sergei stayed with me every day for the rest of my life. Jill is the only one who can accept (can't tolerate) me. My eccentric living habits and moody temperament in the eyes of others can be quietly resolved by her understanding nature, which no one but her can do. When I brought her from Europe, she was a rose blonde, only a few years younger than me. In the later years, she has always been my most trusted reliance, and we spent our youth and later middle age and old age together. She is smart, kind and unknown, but she is willing to take care of and accompany me. From worshipping me at the beginning to accepting everything from me later, I am grateful to her and love her deeply. This is a truth: the most important person in a person's life is not necessarily, and often not your family, but the person who suits you best-China people seem to call this "fate". When I am in a bad mood, Jill will make faces at me, or dress up as Chaplin to make me happy with all kinds of antics. Her super imitation genius made me laugh and even rolled on the floor with laughter! But more often, I like to shut myself in a small room, which is my absolute private world, and she knows the importance of being alone and never bothers me there. I am a heavy smoker. When the room is full of smoke, she will promptly advise me to go out for a walk or eat something to interrupt my excessive demand for cigarettes. It is strange that a crazy smoker like me can live so long-is it that God is taking care of my self-punishment in another way? At dusk, we always go for a walk in the central park not far away. Jill will help me change the color of sunglasses and headscarf to avoid being recognized. But I have been recognized several times. Once Jill was ill, so I had to go out for a walk alone. A reporter obviously knows my address and has been waiting for me for a long time. He took some photos of me without my knowledge. I saw them in the newspaper two days later with shocking headlines. In the photo, the old woman whose hair was blown by the wind was flabby and thin. Compared with the face in people's memory that has reached the extreme of human evolution, it can only be described as terror. But that aging face gave me a strange pleasure, which was the pleasure of revenge on myself. I never thought there was anything special about my appearance. Even if it's beautiful, it's just luck. I have never consciously paid attention to it. When I was a child, I always felt ugly. A person who doesn't have much happiness in his heart, like me, only cares about people who know and love me in life. This is a fatal requirement and the whole meaning of my life. And when the only person in the world who knows that I love me is gone forever, my life and appearance will be meaningless-will I care about anything else?

I am old-fashioned and can't accept many things that modern people do. I firmly believe that TV advertisements are monsters that corrode people's hearts and spirituality. I don't believe that psychology can really change anything: modern people believe in psychology, just like people in the past believed in God, and they all need some authority outside themselves to guide their lives. A person who is not self-righteous will be brainwashed by all kinds of commercial information flooding in modern society and will easily give in. It is difficult for me to integrate into the outside life, because the value of life I believe in has long since ceased to exist. I read books, walk, smoke, recall, think, fantasize, sleep, and do all kinds of trivial and vulgar things every day, such as buying cigarettes, buying vegetables, feeding parrots, talking to parrots, peeling potatoes, and cutting carrots with Gillier ... My past savings saved me from worrying too much about food and clothing after living in seclusion, but this has nothing to do with luxury. Fortunately, I have been used to poverty since I was a child, and I don't have high material requirements. It is really an exaggeration to say that my seclusion is very similar to the life of a monastery. The dark gray windbreaker I wear every day for a walk is still from the 1950s, and the hem is worn out, but I don't care at all, because it is already a part of my body, and I never thought about replacing it.

Two weeks ago, shortly after Jill wrote this letter for me, she was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia. Unexpectedly, complications made her never come back, leaving before me! My sadness is beyond words. She is an angel sent by God to take care of me. Now that she and Sergei are gone, I naturally want to leave. Can someone tell me the reason to live? Absolutely not.

Well, that's all I want to say. Yes, it really relieved me to say it. You are really a smart man, knowing the privacy of strangers, and relieving them of a heavy burden. But, finally, I'm sorry to ask, do you really believe that there is Jill in my life? No, I have never had a maid. Jill only exists in my fantasy. The truth is, I have lived alone for decades, and I have been here for decades, because there is no room for anyone in my life except my pet Sergei. But I've always fantasized about having such a person with me-is it contradictory? In my hometown in Europe, when I was very young, I liked to sit alone by the window and turn all the unpleasant things I saw into beautiful and mysterious existence in my mind, such as imagining the pile of garbage in the yard as an ocean full of sailboats. I can only say that this childhood habit has been with me all my life, and I can't live without it for a day now. Jill is me, and I am her. I'm tired, and I'm glad I'm leaving this world. I hope I can meet my lover and people who really care about me in another world after I die. Unfortunately, there are never many of them. At that time, Sergei might say to me, "You are late again!"

God's role is to give people room for fantasy and get comfort. In front of him, I know and he knows that I will always be an ugly duckling with inferiority, sensitivity and extreme shyness. When I was a child, I liked a person and had endless crazy fantasies. Now, it's time for the little girl to go back. Goodbye, I don't want to stay here any longer.

From the moment I read this letter, my heart trembled and tightened inexplicably. Read on, my intuition has told me that the author can't be anyone else, except the most legendary Swedish iceberg beauty. If so, this last note should be the most precious one I have received. I can't believe my eyes. I can't believe it. Excuse me, who would believe that the person who wrote this letter was not La Traviata or Queen Christina, but someone else? A person who regards privacy as his life must not be disturbed in any way. What more exciting things can you expect after receiving her personal letter? It is almost impossible for anyone to get a glimpse of the mysterious seclusion of this eternal legend for decades from her handwritten letter, but when I received this letter, this dream has miraculously become a reality. This is the most unexpected and precious gift! I don't know who else in this era can have her almost stubborn belief in feelings and stick to her unique understanding and belief in the value of life in a state of complete indifference to her own life. The phrase "Jill is me, I am her" blooms a wonderful flower of imagination from a soul in the extremely lonely soil, which is amazing and sad. Although journalists can sneak a glimpse of her former appearance, they will never capture her soul or the beauty that is no longer accepted by contemporary people and has nothing to do with appearance.

Grace mcdowell, female, 85 years old, white

Hollywood movie stars in the 1930s.

Dear advertiser:

Hello. No matter who you are, male or female, always young, I have to declare in advance that I have not contacted anyone for many years, and I am not used to talking to others except my pet. So please forgive me if this letter is written backwards and difficult to understand. I have lived in seclusion for most of my life, so the anonymous suggestion in your advertisement is just what I want, otherwise I would never leave the following sentence.

One morning a week ago, I woke up to find that Sergei, a parrot who has been with me for decades, didn't say to me, "You got up late again!" " "I was surprised to see the big wooden cage by its window and saw it lying motionless inside. Sergei stands on a thick stick in a cage every day. Turquoise and red feathers are the most familiar colors for decades, but they were scattered at the bottom of the cage that day, forming a desolate scene I have never seen before. I knew for a long time that only death could defeat Sergei. At that moment, I clearly felt the fact that I would leave this world at any time. Sergei and I are both over 80 years old. When I bought him, he was 40 years old, only four years older than when I began to live in seclusion. The feeling of leaving is like a hand touching me gently. It's not heavy, but it's certain.

I'm not afraid of death. I have no good reason to continue the rest of my life. Death is a relief for me, a kind of sleep that will never wake up, and finally I can forget everything. According to my temper and habits all my life, I will never share my life with anyone, without exception. I just want to live quietly before I die and disappear quietly after I die. But your little advertisement made me change my mind. It's a miracle. I am about to leave the earth where I have lived for more than 80 years. I think being reserved and opinionated is not as important to me as it used to be. At the moment, I am just an old woman who looks mediocre or even ugly, an ordinary person who will become a dead body at any time. You are right. A person may have something to say before he dies, but he can't say it, and I am no exception. Since your little advertisement unexpectedly provided me with an opportunity, I will make good use of it. What reassures me is that no matter what you do with this letter, it doesn't matter much, because your anonymous suggestion makes people don't know who I really am, except for invalid speculation. Let it be a mystery, which is exactly what I hope. I dictated this letter and typed it for me by my maid and my lifelong friend Jill. When I am dying, what I want to say most is that I am very dissatisfied with my neglected life. It's not worth mentioning, but it will pass anyway. I made two irretrievable wrong choices in my life, which became a fatal regret that tortured me every day for the rest of my life, which is also the reason why I chose to film and live in seclusion at the most popular time.

The first unforgivable mistake I made was that I was bewitched by fame and fortune and didn't listen to the request of the most important person in my life, which led to the most terrible consequence and made him die prematurely. I spent the rest of my life away from all fame and fortune and living an ascetic life to punish myself, but I couldn't offset the deep guilt accumulated inside. Therefore, I hate all people who ask me why I took pictures. They are all curious about my private life. How can I allow myself to be used to entertain others in this matter that is too personal, too painful and more important than life? That's why I later refused to associate with everyone. The human heart is the most beautiful thing in the world and the ugliest thing. I used to see someone in the newspaper who didn't understand why I left the screen without mercy and said that I had wasted my unparalleled charm and beauty (I wish they would come to see me now! ) and these are just other people's ideas, which have nothing to do with me, that is to say, no one knows me. For me, lovelorn is more important than anything else; Compared with it, all glory, fame and fortune are just dust. After the untimely death of the only person I ever loved, my world collapsed from the inside. Too much regret and guilt made me decide not to marry for life. I knew before I retired that I couldn't have "love" for anyone in my life, and even if I did, I ended in failure without exception.

The second fatal mistake I made in the first half of my life was to forget my own nature and agree to play comedy. I grew up only familiar with loneliness. Happiness always scares me. I've never been used to it. Loneliness and pain are my innate persistent companions, and I am destined to play a tragedy. But I later violated this fact that has been proved many times, so I suffered a fiasco. It completely destroyed my expectations and recognition of my self-image, and I can't forgive my thoughtlessness and vanity-they are not part of my nature. People can't resist fate. What others can do, what I do is suffering, which is a fatal trap.

I am an extremely sensitive and dignified person, and these two fatal choices make me feel extremely ashamed and humiliated, so I can only use seclusion to resist any possible external harm, which is also the only choice to punish myself. I want to say that love is the only feeling worth experiencing, and people should not refuse and miss it for any reason! But don't mistake eroticism for love. When true love comes, miracles will happen, and a loving person will be endowed with immortal divinity that only God can have! Even though love may no longer exist, it may disappear in the future, but people who have never experienced it seem to have never really lived. Every ordinary and boring day is worth remembering, because most of people's lives are wasted, just to make a living. Before meeting the only person I love in my life, I only know loneliness and poverty, loneliness and inferiority. It was his love that changed everything for me and made me reborn completely. I always believe that love is the only experience that makes life worthwhile.

I lived in seclusion in new york for decades. I don't want anyone to know or see me. I seldom associate with people and never answer the phone. I just want to spend the rest of my life in peace. The noisy neon lights in this city are always inseparable from the bottomless loneliness. Fortunately, my maid Jill and parrot Sergei stayed with me every day for the rest of my life. Jill is the only one who can accept (can't tolerate) me. My eccentric living habits and moody temperament in the eyes of others can be quietly resolved by her understanding nature, which no one but her can do. When I brought her from Europe, she was a rose blonde, only a few years younger than me. In the later years, she has always been my most trusted reliance, and we spent our youth and later middle age and old age together. She is smart, kind and unknown, but she is willing to take care of and accompany me. From worshipping me at the beginning to accepting everything from me later, I am grateful to her and love her deeply. This is a truth: the most important person in a person's life is not necessarily, and often not your family, but the person who suits you best-China people seem to call this "fate". When I am in a bad mood, Jill will make faces at me, or dress up as Chaplin to make me happy with all kinds of antics. Her super imitation genius made me laugh and even rolled on the floor with laughter! But more often, I like to shut myself in a small room, which is my absolute private world, and she knows the importance of being alone and never bothers me there. I am a heavy smoker. When the room is full of smoke, she will promptly advise me to go out for a walk or eat something to interrupt my excessive demand for cigarettes. It is strange that a crazy smoker like me can live so long-is it that God is taking care of my self-punishment in another way? At dusk, we always go for a walk in the central park not far away. Jill will help me change the color of sunglasses and headscarf to avoid being recognized. But I have been recognized several times. Once Jill was ill, so I had to go out for a walk alone. A reporter obviously knows my address and has been waiting for me for a long time. He took some photos of me without my knowledge. I saw them in the newspaper two days later with shocking headlines. In the photo, the old woman whose hair was blown by the wind was flabby and thin. Compared with the face in people's memory that has reached the extreme of human evolution, it can only be described as terror. But that aging face gave me a strange pleasure, which was the pleasure of revenge on myself. I never thought there was anything special about my appearance. Even if it's beautiful, it's just luck. I have never consciously paid attention to it. When I was a child, I always felt ugly. A person who doesn't have much happiness in his heart, like me, only cares about people who know and love me in life. This is a fatal requirement and the whole meaning of my life. And when the only person in the world who knows that I love me is gone forever, my life and appearance will be meaningless-will I care about anything else?

I am old-fashioned and can't accept many things that modern people do. I firmly believe that TV advertisements are monsters that corrode people's hearts and spirituality. I don't believe that psychology can really change anything: modern people believe in psychology, just like people in the past believed in God, and they all need some authority outside themselves to guide their lives. A person who is not self-righteous will be brainwashed by all kinds of commercial information flooding in modern society and will easily give in. It is difficult for me to integrate into the outside life, because the value of life I believe in has long since ceased to exist. I read books, walk, smoke, recall, think, fantasize, sleep, and do all kinds of trivial and vulgar things every day, such as buying cigarettes, buying vegetables, feeding parrots, talking to parrots, peeling potatoes, and cutting carrots with Gillier ... My past savings saved me from worrying too much about food and clothing after living in seclusion, but this has nothing to do with luxury. Fortunately, I have been used to poverty since I was a child, and I don't have high material requirements. It is really an exaggeration to say that my seclusion is very similar to the life of a monastery. The dark gray windbreaker I wear every day for a walk is still from the 1950s, and the hem is worn out, but I don't care at all, because it is already a part of my body, and I never thought about replacing it.

Two weeks ago, shortly after Jill wrote this letter for me, she was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia. Unexpectedly, complications made her never come back, leaving before me! My sadness is beyond words. She is an angel sent by God to take care of me. Now that she and Sergei are gone, I naturally want to leave. Can someone tell me the reason to live? Absolutely not.

Well, that's all I want to say. Yes, it really relieved me to say it. You are really a smart man, knowing the privacy of strangers, and relieving them of a heavy burden. But, finally, I'm sorry to ask, do you really believe that there is Jill in my life? No, I have never had a maid. Jill only exists in my fantasy. The truth is, I have lived alone for decades, and I have been here for decades, because there is no room for anyone in my life except my pet Sergei. But I've always fantasized about having such a person with me-is it contradictory? In my hometown in Europe, when I was very young, I liked to sit alone by the window and turn all the unpleasant things I saw into beautiful and mysterious existence in my mind, such as imagining the pile of garbage in the yard as an ocean full of sailboats. I can only say that this childhood habit has been with me all my life, and I can't live without it for a day now. Jill is me, and I am her. I'm tired, and I'm glad I'm leaving this world. I hope I can meet my lover and people who really care about me in another world after I die. Unfortunately, there are never many of them. At that time, Sergei might say to me, "You are late again!"

God's role is to give people room for fantasy and get comfort. In front of him, I know and he knows that I will always be an ugly duckling with inferiority, sensitivity and extreme shyness. When I was a child, I liked a person and had endless crazy fantasies. Now, it's time for the little girl to go back. Goodbye, I don't want to stay here any longer.

From the moment I read this letter, my heart trembled and tightened inexplicably. Read on, my intuition has told me that the author can't be anyone else, except the most legendary Swedish iceberg beauty. If so, this last note should be the most precious one I have received. I can't believe my eyes. I can't believe it. Excuse me, who would believe that the person who wrote this letter was not La Traviata or Queen Christina, but someone else? A person who regards privacy as his life must not be disturbed in any way. What more exciting things can you expect after receiving her personal letter? It is almost impossible for anyone to get a glimpse of the mysterious seclusion of this eternal legend for decades from her handwritten letter, but when I received this letter, this dream has miraculously become a reality. This is the most unexpected and precious gift! I don't know who else in this era can have her almost stubborn belief in feelings and stick to her unique understanding and belief in the value of life in a state of complete indifference to her own life. The phrase "Jill is me, I am her" blooms a wonderful flower of imagination from a soul in the extremely lonely soil, which is amazing and sad. Although journalists can sneak a glimpse of her former appearance, they will never capture her soul or the beauty that is no longer accepted by contemporary people and has nothing to do with appearance.