Poets from the 1960s, writers from the 1990s, teenage students, worldly-wise lecturers... It was a quiet, not unhappy coming together. A motley group sitting in silence, not to mourn, but to celebrate the quiet life and astonishing work of Dom Moraes (1938-2004).

"I have grown up, I think, to live alone
To keep my old illusions, sometimes dream,
Glumly, that I am unloved and forlorn,
Run away from strangers, often seem
Unreal to myself in the pulpy warmth of a sunbeam."

-- From 'Autobiography'

Photograph: Jewella Miranda

Also see: I never met Dom Moraes