Julian Cope: Tear For Fears

HIS BOTTOM lip trembles as he bites his fingernails. Beneath the familiar lazy flop of a frizzy blond fringe, his eyes are filmed with liquid. I wait for the teardrops to explode, but they don't. A solitary salty rivulet escapes his left duct and trickles down his cheek. Shaking ever so slightly, he wipes it away with his right hand and continues to stare at the desk in front of him. Julian is coping...but only just.