For two hours, Leo was transported. He watched a scrawny kid from Hibbing, Minnesota, reinvent himself on the fly. He watched the Newport crowd boo the electricity. He watched Joan Baez harmonize like an angel trying to save a demon.

Leo never found out what he said.

His thesis was due in three weeks. His advisor had called his last draft “competent but soulless.” He’d been trying to write like an academic—safe, cited, careful. But Dylan never did what was careful. He did what he wanted.

He clicked download.

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