Turn the clock back 34 years and you’ll find me standing in front of Jim Morrison’s grave in the Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris. I didn’t need a map to find it. I just followed the graffiti. Arrows with the word ‘Jim’ chalked on trees and monuments marked the way to the final resting place of the American rock star they called The Lizard King. As I drew close the graffiti became more dominant and the air was filled with the smell of marijuana.
Continue reading “Jim Morrison idolised Jack Kerouac but it seems Kerouac’s mum was not impressed”