polita, discover my secret sorrow and the remedy recommended me to forget ... Cocaine, morphine, drugs. Then I started looking for exotic places, strange-looking dancers, South American and opulent brown hair dye.
harvested at that time success and applause a newcomer, a cabaret singer. Debuted in Florida and singing strange songs in a strange language. She sang in a suit
exotic, unknown in those places until then, tangos, rancheras and sambas Argentina. A boy rather thin, somewhat dark, white teeth, a fine of Paris who showered with attention. It was Carlos Gardel. His tangos weeping, singing with all our soul, captured the public without knowing why. His songs thenCaminito, La chacarera, He ermine wrap, Indian Complaints, Entre tangos dreams, were not modern, but old songs from Argentina, the pure soul of the gaucho of the pampas. Gardel was fashionable. No food was elegant and gallant reception that he was not invited. Her brown face, white teeth, fresh and bright smile shone everywhere. Cabarets, theaters, music halls, racetracks. He was a permanent guest of Auteuil and Longchamps. Gardel
But he liked better than all fun in their own way, including his own in the circle of his intimates.
At that time Paris was in a cabaret called "Palermo" Cliché street, frequented almost exclusively by American ... There I met him. A Gardel was interested in all womenres, but I did not interest me ... more than cocaine and champagne. Certainly my feminine vanity flattered to be seen in Paris with the man of the day, the idol of women, but nothing telling my heart. That friendship was reaffirmed
on other nights, other outings, other confidences, under the pale moon Parisian, through the flowery fields. Spent many days in a romantic interest. That man was entering my soul. His words were of silk, his sentences were digging the rock of my indifference. I went crazy. My sad little apartment luxurious but was now full of light. I did not cabarets. In my beautiful gray room, the glare of electric lamps, a blonde head firmly attached to a face of brown shades. My blue bedroom, she metall the nostalgia of a wandering soul, was now a true love nest. It was my first love.
