was on the the gods at the last San Francisco Fetish Ball watching Scar13 when some guy crowded in next to me barbed and told me “Huh, huh, she used to be my docile, huh huh.” The guy was undoubtedly any a) full of shit, b) telling the exactness, or c) something in between. Fortunately or unfortunately, I’ll never know, because I was too busy staring ecstatically at Scar to turn around and look at the guy. You may perhaps foldaway to the ends of the Earth and you’ll never find a goth than Scar. Here, up in dim lace, calfskin, and a Blue Blood sweat shirt, she writhes on a red and shadowy , strips and wide for you. Make no blooper: this bluehaired deathrocker will leave her injured mark upon your heart.

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