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He did it his way. Right to the very end.He did it his way. Right to the very end.

It was 1998 in his lush, if small production office named Isolar housed in the Olympic Towers overlooking St. Patrick Cathedral in New York City. One of his managers was screening Marcus Nispel's show reel in the conference room when he , the legend, turned the corner. I started stuttering and for some stupid reason said "Good night Mr Bowie." though the sky was still late evening blue. "Good night," said Mr. Bowie with a half laugh. He sounded just like he did on TV.

Taste is a dictatorship.


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