I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six. Mother took me to see him in a department store and he asked for my autograph.
I stopped believing in Santa Claus when my mother took me to see him in a department store, and he asked for my autograph.
I was one of Them: the Strange Ones. The Funny People. The Odd Tribes of autograph collectors and photographers. The Ones who waited through long days and nights, who used other people's dreams for their lives.
Fame lost its appeal for me when I went into a public restroom and an autograph seeker handed me a pen and paper under the stall door.