In 1975 Kelsey was divorced, again a single mom. She’d decided she loved me, was about to begin a disastrous relationship with a man who beat and terrorized her. We’d last seen each other in 1971, wouldn’t meet again until 1977.

In 1975 I was living and working in London in a large eighteenth century house on the Thames. The music room had 18 foot ceilings. As one of the job perks I had reader’s tickets for the London School of Economics library and for the main and manuscript reading rooms for the British Library. The latter ticket is the source for this 1976 photo of me.

I was extremely hung over when it was taken. The night before there’d been a party where the English artist, after a year-long residence in Moscow where she got to know members of the underground art community, taught us to drink vodka like a Russian. Poor sad me, I spent part of the evening afterwards wading in the Thames bawling my eyes out.

Kelsey and the Beautiful Woman in appearance very much fit the same type. The difference is that the Beautiful Woman knew she was pretty. Kelsey thinks she’s average looking, maybe rather plain. She’s a chameleon, constantly changing. Not having a fixed sort of prettiness only enhances the fascination.