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Run from their pity, from responsibility. Run from the country and run from the city. I can run from the law, I can run from myself. I can run from my life, I can run into debt. I can run from it all, I can run till I'm gone.
Like you, I know exactly where I was and what I was doing when I heard Tilou Pouline had been killed.
Like you, I know no more than that. Killed, yes. But by whom and how none of us ever knew.
Rumours multiplied. I met a Hell's Angel in a bar in Encino who swore blind that he knew a man who claimed to have crushed in Tilou's skull with a lead piping, on behalf of a crazed ex-boyfriend.
It became a national obsession. "Who killed Tilou Pouline?" bubblegum cards w