I often think of Miguel often and at very odd times. I am always haunted by who he was and his memory. I think of him so much now as I dress and prepare to go to a party at the Wilshire Hotel in Los Angeles. Miguel was one of the most remarkable people I have ever met in my whole life. To me he still retains a lifelong ambivalent quality to him that no one will be able to take away from me. He comes back to me in my mind always in ever present illusory and recurring dreams. As I sit still, I remember him since it was so long ago I wait for a minute looking at myself in the mirror all those years later and wonder how I have weather the years so well if Miguel was still alive where we would be living today. I know very little about Miguel and what became of him. I have often always wondered if anyone today does know where he is. My very first meeting with him at a Theater hall in December of 1955 in Madrid. The place was called the Le Revue Villa right there in Downtown Madrid. It was a cool fine day. Christmas was fast approaching. Very few places are as beautiful at the Spanish Countryside where the Villa was located. I would always picture it in mind. The rugged green hills and the narrow winding road down Carmenita way through the street to the Theater. The usual people that hung out at the theater on those cold winter nights back then were an unusual bunch of people. You had German scientists, Spanish and Italian movie stars political refugees young expatriates, artists, French, American, English, Swedish, and Austrian adventurers. It was as one of the Grandest Annual Parties in all of Europe. The woman who threw the party was known Princess of Gibraltar because she was born there. She was there with her gigolo Raul. They were both talking and laughing. The Princess had two small children. My friend at the time Colette was the governess to the Princess children. Colette had invited her friend Miranda and three Pilots to the Party. As I looking around that night I thought to myself all Roads in Spain must lead through this place in one way or another with such an odd assortment of people. Here, There, and Everywhere I looked among the sea of images and faces at this party there were some clearly stood out. One face in particular was that of a man who was about forty years old with black slicked back hair. He was dressed very elegantly with a neatly trimmed beard and a black and white suit. He seemed to be a very affectionate man and was very well dressed compared to some of the other men there and from my perspective looked to be the best looking one at the party. This man also had another quality that also drew me to him. He seemed to have an ageless survivor of life quality about him that I hadn’t seen in other people before. I had seen that look in the faces of other men at those prisoner of war camps during the great war years earlier. His eyes were black and burned in me as we stared at each other. As I was standing by a pond in the back near the garden steps talking to Colette, Miranda and Raul, I was thinking. “ This dinner party is better than any other I have ever attended and quite unlike any one I have been to before.” Miranda was an avid art lover and appreciated all kinds of great works that were all over Europe. Me and Collete and Miranda would frequent a lot of the galleries together in places like Barcelona and Seville. We would also exchange ideas about the latest and most artworks that were being completed by these painters. As the band began to play a song I really liked to listen to, Miguel walked over to me and bent down and kissed my hand. He said with with an soft voice. “What is your name? I answered it was Marcie “Oh he said. You have an English accent. “No it is an Australian accent I responded”. “I was in Australia once he said”. As I looked at him with intensity I good tell there was an immediate attraction between the two of us that I have never experienced with anyone else before. His thick hair was curled back from his ears and the rest of it was combed back. “I was in Australia he once replied. Sydney over fifteen years ago. I was stationed there during the early years of the great war in the Pacific fighting against the Japanese. He smiled and looked and said. You must have been just a child then Marcie. “Wow I said. I can’t believe you were in the war?” I asked. He looked away. Ya Miguel said. “I am glad I was. It was a great experience for me." I then replied. “It seemed everyone wanted to serve their country in the great war.” He then shrugged, pouting his lips again and again then smiling disarmingly to show his white well formed teeth. I always liked men with nice teeth, but then it also occurred to me that I was unable to draw my eyes away from his for what seemed like a long moment in time. I realized in that brief moment that Miguel fulfilled my ideal of what I wanted in a man. We walked around the side of the villa, past gro