I couldn't believe that you died.
Suicide of you, for me, was a nightmare.
You have gone and will never ever return.
Is that a kind of revolution,
and the way of your own to show your attitude of this ugly, dirty world?
I remembered that day, out of the Dior show, the artist held a board.
It wrote, 'The King is Gone.'
For me it is too because I love Galliano so much.
He jokingly showed his talents.
And this dark world cannot forgive his mistake at all.
So did you feel upset a lot,
for this damned world?
So did your disappointment cause your suicide,
during such endless sadness?
Your assistant has taken your job.
I can see her effort put into your brand and your culture.
I can see.
But I cannot agree.
That she works better than you did.
Because she could never be.
The second Lee.
I insist.
That you are inevitable.
That you are super.
No one can go beyond you,
since no one can do another 'Highland Rape'.
No more bumsters can come out.
No Joyce McQueen and Isabella Blow would be born.
No one can marry George Forsyth.
Because this long and one and only history was brought, to us, by you.
Now you have gone, and they disappear.
Like it never happened before and there was nothing.
Pressure, depression, despair...
All of those kill you, didn't they?
Bur your passion has not been blowed.
Your love did not float.
God saves your talents in paradise.
With our love.
D.C.
May 22th, 2013.