January 1st, 2011
Dear Diary,
“I was transformed at age eighteen when groupies were ‘groovy’ and drugs fit right in with the musique and excessive bière chugging.” Nicole pleated her skirt, shutting her eyes to remember her past life.
Her mortal life.
“In every corner someone was having a hallucination, ou a new song was being played…Woodstock was one getaway in ’69,” she chuckled, bitterly, opposing her reminiscing urge.
It was a humble Tuesday night and we were wrapping up the New Year’s jour celebrations with Nicole. Upon request, I ripped up the pages I wrote about Nicole during...
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