helena

"Wherever he went heads would turn. He looked like no one else in this world. He was immaculately elegant, a tall streak of a boy, androgynous, beautiful, otherworldly. His dark wolfish hair grew in strange manga-esque swirls on his crown that couldn’t help but stick up. His body and clothes somehow made great shapes together. His hooded blue eyes sparkled with wit and warmth, and in the early days, a bit of eyeliner. I was struck by how courageous he must have been to catch the last train home alone, to Nunawading, looking the way he did. In the ‘70s that meant braving the inevitable taunts and the very real threat of physical harm from the gangs of skinheads that haunted late night carriages. He obviously survived, but that splendid nose of his would always bear the scars."

Lydia Lunch