In a salmon-coloured drawing room, a writer of sadomasochist literature now in her seventies narrates her turbulent, sexually explicit life story, once as her pseudonym and once as herself. What makes up a true biography, the real or the imaginary?
In a salmon-coloured drawing room, a writer of sadomasochist literature now in her seventies narrates her turbulent, sexually explicit life story, once as her pseudonym and once as herself. What makes up a true biography, the real or the imaginary?
