Who is diane lane dating now
Her shoulder-length hair, approximating natural warm browns with streaks of honey, is pinned carelessly atop her head. Purse and phone and keys crowding the basket of her hands. I went in there the other day and there was an ancient diary sitting right out.
Her voice is deep and earthy, her patter manic, the switch thrown about twenty minutes earlier when she picked me up at my hotel in her little turquoise BMW convertible--a courtesy, she explained, designed to lend a sense of control, a fleeting commodity in her hectic life. " The house is set upon a little hill in a quiet Los Angeles neighborhood, a gray stucco split-level. And this letter to Christopher that was four typed pages long, trying to explain why our marriage wasn't working.
"And then the neighbors' baby woke me up, six feet from my head, and I'm like, Hello! She is wearing jeans and joggers and a clingy, spaghetti-strap top, a frumpy pink cardigan. I'm gonna go right down there and unpack, because there's really some embarrassing stuff lying around.
" says Diane Lane, skipping blithely up the brick steps to her new house, trailing monologue behind her like smoke.
That's what's important in the long run."You have to realize, making movies is the weirdest thing you could ever do.
People are beginning to see the body of work as a whole. That's why I wanted to get this house--a little patch of grass that I own. You look at the way rocks are formed--the wind and the water hitting them, shaping them, making them what they are. "We sit in silence for a while, watching a squirrel play in the branches of a towering avocado tree.
Now The Perfect Storm."I love working, I really do.
And the metaphor of being in the tower--people started giving me shit about it.
"You're my prisoner," she said, flinging open the passenger door, a shot of cleavage, and patted the leather seat. Reaching the top of the steps, she turns to survey her yard, the avalanche of boxes spilling out of the garage onto the driveway.
But then I got down there and I looked at all the boxes and I just thought, I can't.
You do." She pauses a moment, rummaging in her purse for a cigarette.
You try not to laugh at the absurdity of the moment.