I don’t very often think I’ve done a good job. I don’t like the majority of what I do. I shouldn’t say I don’t like it, but I’m not satisfied with almost everything that I do.
The dialogue between what’s going on in the world and what’s going on internally seems to be a natural thing – well, it’s natural to me, anyway, to have these thoughts.
Time it was And what a time it was, it was A time of innocence A time of confidences Long ago it must be I have a photograph Preserve your memories They’re all that’s left you.
