Rumi and Dylan

I know it’s ludicrous, but I read Rumi, and I cry and cry and cry, and then I pick up the book and start reading again.  He’s just the most amazing creature – a living breathing ecstatic poet, 800 years dead.

Enough of that.  I have determined that Bob Dylan’s New Year’s Day is the next tune I will be writing down, in honour of his ‘detention’ in Jersey.  Murphy, but I hope he writes a song about it.