Because I happen to be in London, and I always been attracted to all this massive manifestations of feelings (whatever they are), I went to Amy's house in Camden Town and had a look.
Not my favourite singer, not my role mode or anything, but without a doubt she seemed like a very authentic artist in a world of prefabricated and disposable performers. She definitely was no Big Mac.
All I can say is that this all massive and kind of ironic display of public grief and affection reminds me of the verse of that famous Héctor Lavoe's song, that roughly can be translated as: if you don't love me while I'm alive, don't cry for me when I'm dead (si no quieren en vida, cuando muera no me lloren).
