Words have power. They make us see things.
There’s a bit in No Direction Home, Martin Scorsese’s essential film about Dylan’s early years: Baez is sitting in her kitchen nursing a mug of coffee. She’s just been talking about her first impressions of Dylan. This was early on, when she was already a famous singer, and he was a raggedy-clothed ragamuffin just starting out. She says that everyone was raving about him, about how he was a genius who wrote all these great songs, but that she refused to listen, being far too self-absorbed at the time. But then she heard him sing and he was as good as everyone said he was.
Very soon they started a romance. He used to stay with her in a house in Carmel Valley, because he liked to write there.
That’s when she does the impression.
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