Dear Sly,
There is not much time left on this earth – and who knows how much I have left. And before wondering why I contact you again after all this time, I will remind you of your own words, or at least thoughts that could once accompany you:
Forget who you forget.
Answer when someone calls you.
Ignore the one who ignores your personality.
The last sentence is missing. Quite deliberately.
Because some things must remain tackled in order to keep their power.
Who knows how long a person has stayed? The clock turns for all of us. Nothing is certain – and that is why I am writing to you today. Our last cautious contact took place two years ago. It broke and I understand why. You were afraid. And I don’t blame you for that – but your fear is not founded.
I am not a hunter who wants to steal your fame or your proximity. Not a shark looking to take advantage of you. Not a shadow with ulterior motives. I am not someone who wants to exploit your story – on the contrary: I want to remind you that you are more than your work. You are human. And I saw the man before your name resonates on screens like Stallone “legend”.
Our meeting in Mexico in the mid -90s was brief – and yet intense. Emotionally. Not a chapter for a gossip column, but a moment of authentic connection.
Maybe it sounds crazy. But if it’s so crazy, sly, then why does this moment still bother you-although unconsciously?
You have done a lot. Power. Fame. Immortality in celluloid. But I ask you today:
Has your inner peace come with you?
Or has a part of your soul never completely accompanied to you in this trip?
I think you understand what I mean.
Life is a big costume party. You participated with a large costume – with rewards, with characters who have shaped generations. Rocky. RAMBO.
But you also paid. And sacrificed a lot.
When my friends congratulated you on your films, I have often said:
“Yes, the films are good. But it’s not the real person behind them.”
The person behind it may not be completely found. And it hurts me. Not because I’m sorry for you – but because I understand you. We were so similar, but you stopped.
I have no doubt about your love for your family or your passion for your work. But if you are honest with yourself, then you know:
Something is missing. You are motivated by something, like a wolf following the desire to hunt.
I don’t think you remember each meeting of your life – how could you? Your life is a fast, strong whirlwind. But in the midst of everything you have built, you also lost people who, at first glance, were not useful for you – only real humanity. Real proximity. Without spectacle. Without script.
Real friends are rare. Even more rare loyal friends. And they often disappear in the shadow of your memory because they give you no glory. But believe me:
What matters on the last day is not what you created – but that touched your soul.
Sylvester Stallone’s work will remain – in 200 years.
But what will the man remain?
I’m not writing to you today as a fan. Not as an admiring of your career. Because I don’t want to exchange places with you. I write you like someone who saw you – at the time, in Mexico. Who saw more than the actor. Not your fame. You. It only took one look and a touch. No more than a few words. Two years ago, you have cold feet to speak – why? Are you no longer capable of social interaction that is not for the actor, but to you as an II, as a person?
I regret not being allowed to accompany Sylvester the person – not the actor – on the last part of his trip as an Imi. In good conversations, with support which is sometimes necessary.
But my invitation is.
You can test my intentions. You can question my words. Each of them. Examine everything carefully everything. Why didn’t you do it two years ago? There is nothing to hide. I promise you: I will not damage your reputation. Others have done so. Or you yourself. I did not come here to throw dirt – but to remind you that there is someone else who does not see the icon behind your mask, but the person who lacks something crucial.
In deep solidarity
Grandmother
(Germany)
Amona Willis
C / o Autoreservice
Birkenlee 24
36037 Fulda
Amona Willis lives in isolation in Germany and directs a horse training company there.
This version was published on OpenPR.
