This is where
Dylan did his writing, perched on the edge above the estuary.
Peer in through the window and you will see the inside just as
it was when the master was putting words together, you will see
lists of connected words, a part of his toolbox. And when he wanted
a break he could saunter off to Browns Hotel and have a pint with
his cronies.
Dylan ended
up making tours of the United States where he was feted and spoiled,
well they freely bought him drinks and he was very happy to receive.
He died at the young age of 39 but here we are 61 years later
and no-one has come close to be compared with him. He was, and
still is, a one-off. Fortunately there are many recordings of
him reading his poetry and his stories, for that we should be
thankful.