Laugharne, Wales, December 2016, Canon digital, ©Sylvie G

I know very well that it was not there he wrote (he was doing it in the small boatshed a little higher up the road), it was the desk where he sometimes tried to pay the bills, or perhaps where he was dreaming. But it felt  so strange  to be where he had lived for many years. I followed him from his home to the pub, and then to the cemetery where he is buried (under a simple wooden cross). You still  seem to be here, Dylan Thomas, with your magnificent voice, one of my favorite poets.