As a little girl I used to daydream about my real father coming on a white horse to rescue me.
However I dress it up, I was a spy and I am not proud of it.
I have survived and possibly I should not hope for more than that.
One way of reading my life is that I have been in constant search for a father.
I like to think that people live on in other people's memories.
I enjoyed sex and indulged in it when I fancied the men.