without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life.

...You know the mistrust of heights is the mistrust of self, you don't know whether you're going to jump.

In a perverse way, I was glad for the stitches, glad it would show, that there would be scars. What was the point in just being hurt on the inside? It should bloody well show.

How easy I was. Like a limpet I attached myself to anything, anyone who showed me the least attention.

What happened to a dream without a dreamer?

I nodded. A man's world. But what did it mean? That men whistled and stared and yelled things at you, and you had to take it, or you get raped or beat up? A man's world meant places men could go but not women. It meant they had more money,and didn't have kids, not the way women did, to look after every second. And it meant that women loved them more than they loved the women, that they could want something with all their hearts, and then not.

She’s never where she is,' I said. 'She’s only inside her head.