“Some of the signs and portents were too painful to acknowledge. One night at Hall Street I stood at the entrance of our bedroom while Robert slept and had a vision of him stretched on a rack, his white shirt crumbling as he turned to dust before my eyes. He woke up and felt my horror. ‘What did you see?’ he cried. ‘Nothing,’ I answered, turning away, choosing not to accept what I had seen. Though I would someday hold his ashes in my hand.”
— Patti Smith, Just Kids