🚀 Read this insightful post from The New Yorker 📖 📂 Category: Culture / Photo Booth 💡 Main takeaway: You could tell he was going back to work when the drinking stopped and the partying stopped. He would sit in uneasy silence—he hated to be alone, but he was always lonely spiritually—he would place a sheet of yellow lined paper on his clipboard, and begin to write down with his strong, courtly hand a world that would honor his imagination and his dead.The dead were always with Owen, Owen Dodson, the poet, theater director, and professor at Howard University, who…
