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This
was in New York in the early eighties, just before my disaster of Mata
Hari. (I lost all the braids when a perm went wrong). I
have forgotten the exact name of the photographer, but he was a
young German living in Manhattan with a studio in one corner of
his flat. He
was keen on creating moving atmospheres, not interested in static poses. I
would dance and he would take whatever he thought was interesting.
- Lene Lovich

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