LIVE FOR LOVE. DIE FOR LOVE.
You were a rock musician until they broke your hands. You had a girlfriend until they broke her, too. Then you met Justine.

Justine kills now and then. It's an imperative. You can understand.

Even though she's older than the angels, she looks younger than you. She cannot remember very much of her past, and perhaps this gives her a certain quality of innocence despite all she has done.

She keeps you but not as a slave. More of a habit. Warm to her cold. Neither dead nor living, like her. You're her accomplice, her jones, her imp. Her familiar.

You're good for each other. Isn't that what counts?