1963: death of a poet
It is 1963, I am recording live the last moments of Sylvia’s life. She invites me as she doesn’t understand livecast. “Have a cake” she says, “Baked in my own oven,” her eyes twinkle. She takes me to check on her kids. Frieda has her arms around Nicholas sleeping secure. I livecast the sleep. Returning to the warm[Read More…]