They wanted to hear about the sex, of course. But not the rest; no one wanted to hear the rest.

As a little girl I used to daydream about my real father coming on a white horse to rescue me.

I have survived and possibly I should not hope for more than that.

If I don't tell it all now, the story in the history books will always be imperfect and that would be wrong.

I took on the sins of everybody, of a generation, really.

They wanted to hear about the sex, of course. But not the rest; no one wanted to hear the rest.

Even a criminal has the right to a new life, but they made sure I did not have that. They just didn't stop calling me a prostitute for ever and ever and ever and ever.