It’s not what you are that counts, it’s what they think you are.
When Paul was arrested in Japan for having hash in his luggage, I thought he'd be out that night. But it became really serious stuff when he was kept in a cell. I became more fearful as the days went by.
We both came from families in which parents got married, had children and the whole thing. So we were not the kind of people to live together permanently.
When I married Paul, we lived in St John's Wood in London. We had nice next-door neighbours, but you don't know anyone else. Everyone lives in isolation.
We spend so much time together, because that's how we like it. I never used to go on girl's nights out, even at school. And Paul has never liked going out for a night with the boys, either.
We have lasted this long close together, so we must have something going for each other.
We are really on top of one another at the moment and I think it is amazing how we stay so close. Maybe that's the test. Why not totally put yourself together, rather than always wonder whether you actually like each other?
I wasn't looking for another marriage. I had been married before. He is a nice man - a geologist, an Ernest Hemingway type. But Paul and I married because of convention.
Photographers, you will never become artists. All you are is mere copiers.
Don't put my name on it. These are simply documents I make.