And it was still hot

The night before Maurice Sendak died, I took a shot of a little sketch that he'd done in 1961. It was sitting alone in a dark corner at Books of Wonder in New York – on offer for anyone with $30,000 to spare.

Then I sat cross-legged on the floor and read all the way from Kenny's Window through to Bumble-Ardy and pondered the profound effect he'd had on my life.

When I read the news the next day it hurt as though I'd lost a grandfather. But somehow I also felt like I'd been given the chance to say goodbye.

I know he didn't believe he'd be going to any wild rumpus in the sky, but he left so much here for us that he'll never really be gone.

Thank you Maurice.