I've never worked so meticulously before-but the precision of perspective and angles requires nothing less-my concentration so acute that at times I have to remind myself to draw a breath. The image haunts me, and my mind finds itself hearing Bowie's 1972 rendering of My Death by Jaques Brel for some bizarre reason-particularly the lines 'whatever lies behind the door...'
The performance of which has never failed to move me, particularly at the denouement where Ziggys final lines are eclipsed by the audience cries.
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