He’s searching for a text message he sent to Carrie-Anne Moss, his costar in the Matrix movie franchise, almost two years ago. ![]() “Let’s see, where is it,” he says, scrolling. He sits in the black leather booth of a Paris brasserie, a porcelain cup half full of cappuccino by his elbow, thumbing the screen of his phone with his left hand, which is caked with slashes of dried blood. NATHANIEL GOLDBERG PARIS, the Day Before Halloween
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