I’d like to play the violin. Although I don’t know where to put my fingers, I feel a need. I’d like to play the flute. I’ve never played before, but I can listen. Beethovin’s Fifth or anything by Nicolo Paganini isn’t what I want. I want to play an instrument, the piano, violent and lonely, as no one has ever played it. I’ve never had lessons, but I know something about feeling and I know about sound, and I know I have something to say, like love and no one to hold, like love and no one to hold.
27 October 1982