“Bill would be on the roof every night to watch the colors in the sky as soon as the sun was starting to set. . . . Transfixed and absolutely motionless, right hand holding the perpetual cigarette, lips parting to the sun, and himself stirring only to drop it when it burned his fingers.”

—William S. Burroughs, Jr, remembering his father, William S. Burroughs, in Tangier. From Kentucky Ham, 1973.