“I didn’t want anyone to look at me or talk to me because I didn’t know what to say.
“I was just in a fucking hole, man,” she remembers. Usually sat in her underwear and holey socks, either on her bed, or with her feet up on the desk, holding her guitar, frustrated at her situation, anxious about the future and unable to write anything.
Ask Bonnie how many hours a day she spent down there and she’ll say “almost all of them”.
