Of. Of. Of course. In Memory. And memory. And Maradona. MARADONA. I’m loving. All the things you don’t know about me. They’re just parts of the body. That’s all. Loving. A soccer ball. As a lover. As an artist. Diego was part of the solution. To my addiction to images. There was no other world. I can't seem to get rid of the smell of cardamom. It's gotten to the point where I don't even know where I am. When I say Frida. I mean Frida Kahlo. You're looking right at me. Every time I see your face on TV. It makes me want to run out and jump up and down. Until I collapse in a puddle of laughter.