...a young man, Jamaican, perhaps, his head circled in a scarf with sunbleached dreadlocks on piled on top, looking like a plate of soft-shell crabs.

I couldn't see his face, because the light came in from behind him and he was in shadow, and he said, "I am Picasso." And I said, "Well, so what?

So, I can hurt now, or hurt later.

I just believe that the interesting time in a career is pre-success, what shaped things, how did you get to this point?

. . . Now you see . . . they' re not fit for humans . . ." "Put them on me.

Now what I contend is that my body is my own, at least I have always so regarded it. If I do harm through my experimenting with it, it is I who suffer, not the state.