I went to the X mountain, in Shunyi, I don't know that it is a place far away from Beijing like Huairou. It looked like a mess at night.
Every one saw the beauty. No one saw the pain.
Supermodels, drugs, AIDS, childhood, alcohol, sex, homosexuality. She said that she should have been the lead singer of a rock band, but unfortunately she can't sing. They said she was like a PIGGY DOG, calling LOVE ME LOVE ME LOVE ME all the time.
Her name is GIA, she has no surname, just GIA.
Michael Cristofer describes her story in a confused and heartbreaking style. It traces the tragic life of supermodel GIA from the age of 18 to the fall of 26.
She was born in Pennsylvania and grew up under the shadow of parental abuse. In 1977, she moved to New York to become a model. Under the support of a middle-aged woman-like agent, she gradually jumped into the "MENTROPOLITAN" and "VOGUE" magazines. The cover, as well as the advertisement of the brand-name clothing VERSACE, has become the darling of the times.
In the conservative 70s at the time, her special temperament style made people fascinated and quickly swept the world. However, Rising's reputation forced GIA to find another relief, and she chose drugs. Her hard-earned achievements fell into the abyss of darkness. Finally, in 1986, she died of AIDS at the age of 26. She was one of the first women to die of AIDS in the United States.
She had been trying to find someone to love herself in that era, but eventually she died alone.
Maybe death is the real relief.
I don't know if love actually happened to GIA. She said that woman was the only one who got her heart. But is it because she is after all a child who is afraid of cold, after all, is a lonely angel, and is loved by too little after all? Beauty is just a tool in the hands of others and an epitaph in the mouth.
This princess and pearl in the fashion industry 30 years ago, how many people still remember her beauty and sorrow. After an instant Fanghua fell into the sky, who would remember the enchanting rebelliousness and unrestrainedness under the neon illusion of that summer. Rather than let the beauty be washed and faded by time, it is better to use this extreme frivolousness to tell the loneliness of a girl who is afraid of the cold.
Having lost so much, what are we afraid of losing? Starting from the loss of our mother’s warm womb, we should declare to the world that we are invincible with the brave.
I said, I want to hug you.
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