I want to time travel to the 1960s and live in Bob Dylan's hair. I'd set up camp, lay out a tarp, and look up at the stars while listening to Visions of Johanna and a distant harmonica.
I'm pretty sure I'd be kept awake until the early morning hours by Bob's friends and the sounds of hey man and I dig it, and lots of long drags on short cigarettes.
And I'd stay awake just long enough to hear everyone leave, except Joan Baez...
as she ironically sang Bob to sleep with her version of Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands.
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