I remember arriving, and Bobby Neuwirth, Dylan’s roadie at the time, quietly bringing me into Dylan’s suite… I went into a little television room, creeped in and shut the door. It was dark in there. Dylan was just a shadow. He was looking at the ice skating championships from Austria on television in a darkened room. He didn’t say anything. We just sat down. Neither asked the other a question. There was nothing to say, nothing to ask. Slowly my eyes got accustomed to the dark, and I realized there were other figures in the room sitting on the couch. Slowly the figures became more real. It was John, Paul, George, and Ringo. I must say I felt a little out of my depth.