“I couldn’t bear to be talked about. Some girls are shiny-sharp enough to not be damaged, but I didn’t think I would be.”

“Yet, in the middle of all this grief, I realize there’s a part of me clinical enough to want to document it. People talk about artists like they’re these sensitive, delicate beings who don’t use the toilet, but I think the real ones are something else. They’re users. They’re mercenaries. They’re hunters. And they don’t let anything – other people, or themselves – get in the way of it.”

“Am I worried about the future? I don't know. When I think of the word it's like seeing a cavity, a space where a tooth used to be.”

“If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s the wounded male ego. It’s as though Hollywood thinks I’ve got some choice in whether I like him or not. As if. I can’t change who I am.”

“Have people been staring at you?’He frowns. ‘I don’t know. I guess so. I forgot it was there. Can you really notice it?’‘Well yeah, but … I think it’s great.’ To me, Danny rocking up to surf with graffiti all over his face is magic. I want to tell him that I think he’s precious, that the fact he talks to me is a gift. But of course you can’t say things like that to people”

“He exhales, then leans forward, reaching under the table to hold my knee. 'I didn't mean that. I want to be here. You know what I kept thinking about while I was away? When we went for a surf the morning after - how I felt coming up from the beach with you afterwards. I was thinking, 'How good is this?”

“See, I know what they think about me. That I’m some project. And, yeah, I’ll accept their help. But I’m gonna pay my way. ’Cause you can’t let people like that give you anything. They think they own you then. And you know what? Nobody’s ever going to own me.”