Yoko Ono: Life Without John

IT IS FIVE months since the shots were fired. The Dakota Building shares in that relief which Spring fleetingly gives to New York. Beside the gloomy Gothic archway, red geraniums spill out of the big iron vases. There are tourists now, as well as grief-stricken fans, lingering on West 72nd Street. Dispassionate eyes and cameras search for a glimpse of the guard, still shut futilely in his copper box ten feet from the place where Mark David Chapman stepped forward and John Lennon fell.