I read recently that at the time of your death you were working on a memoir, a book which you described as ‘dealing very seriously with the topic of bullshit’. You died alone, your body undiscovered for days. Your mother then burnt all of your belongings, including all your manuscripts. I want to say sorry. Sorry that you suffered so much during your life time, that you were misunderstood and that the world was not ready for the power of your work.
You are so much more than the woman who shot Any Warhol.