Adrienne Shelly R.I.P.

I could not believe it when I heard the news tonight. You were found dead in the bathroom of your West Village office with something wrapped around your neck. That was all the news would reveal. They are not sure if it was foul play. The other possibility, of course, is suicide. I can fathom neither one for you. One thing is clear, you did not die of natural causes; which pains me greatly. Your loss is bad enough, but the fact that someone took your life, even if it was you, is heinous to consider. You were just 40, with a husband, and 3 year old baby daughter. You were in post production on the latest film you directed, and very excited about hearing back from Sundance about it. I can't imagine you taking your own life under those circumstances. I also can't imagine who would want to kill you. It's all so terribly sad to contemplate.

You meant a lot to me. You had an enormous impact on my imagination as the star of my favorite film of all time, "Trust" by Hal Hartley. I watched many of the other films you made with him too, and you were always captivating in any scene you were in; the subtle nuances of your facial expressions and body language brought a sobering depth to your physical beauty, so that you were never ever just eye candy, despite how much the camera loved you.

You will be sorely missed. I am so sorry that you had to die; especially so prematurely and in such in a violent manner. I wish I could turn back the clock and undo it, so that tonight, you'd be fast asleep in Tribeca with your husband and little girl, safe and sound. The city that nurtured and celebrated you seemed to have other sinister plans for you instead. It's tragic that the very place that once harbored you, suddenly became the very site of your destruction. I know you loved Manhattan passionately, that it ran in your blood. I hope at least you died cradled in her arms somehow, your fading city receding from view as the light fell from your eyes. May you not become a ghost of Gotham, but rather a solemn angel who guards us, beautiful with somber faced radiance, watching over us with dispassionate, but kind, tearless eyes.