I waited, alone in the woods. About fifteen minutes later, a man appeared, wearing a long, buttoned-up shearling overcoat. He had gray hair, a cropped gray beard, and large, slightly slanted agate eyes. He walked with a cane and was accompanied by a German shepherd, like a man in a fairy tale. He put out his hand and said, “I’m Maurice Sendak.” We went inside the barn, where it was a bit warmer, but we kept our coats on: the implication was that I might not be staying long.