Yesterday, I was ecstatic to hold in my hands images of Miss Lala that (I think) have never been published before. (Here is a fuzzy snapshot of one of them.) The day got even better when I actually located her for several months in 1883! I was getting mad at Miss Lala before those discoveries. Why would she erase her life so thoroughly and make me spend unfruitful days in a library basement when I could be soaking up the sun in a Parisian cafe? Maybe she wants her story told afterall.