They Were Dying, Part 6 of 7

(Marilyn Monroe speaks.) River of No Return A desert is a bitter place. There's something cruel in endless space: it strips away the human scale. I fear these winds that scour and chase the vortices, and sting my face. Good looks are fine, but all too frail - ask Monty. Once you've lost your place, you feel as if you've lost the race, you're not what you're supposed to be. I envy his consumption rate. The one man in this battle-born state in grimmer shape than even me. Yes, Huston's the paternal kind, but something's left him colourblind: director's name on empty chair. He's hollow, going through the motions, painted ship on painted ocean: you touch him, but he isn't there. I married Miller on a whim. If I could land a man like him, I figured, I must be someone. A man above me, older, smarter: I didn't want a Jewish martyr. Why lock the safe? The money's gone. I come without a guarantee. Men fool themselves - they don't need me. I nixed on Arthur, fixed on Clark. I've reached some kind of plateau now. I'm sure of everything ... but how to find my way back in the dark.