If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard it…
“Omigosh! Has anyone ever told you you look like DAVID BOWIE?!”
I met him once—tall and slender, ethereal and striking. He had warm, dry hands with long fingers. There was something otherworldly about him; an electric stillness that made him stand out and blend at the same time, a creature both stunning and stealthy.
It’s surreal to hear his name in context of mourning. Artist and visionary, extraordinary and extraterrestrial. And now that he’s gone, what was once a compliment carries an emptiness, a hollow.
To be so unique, fearless and dedicated to one’s life in and as art is a brilliant aspiration. Back to the stars, sir. You’re missed.