This story was originally published in the February 21st, 1991 issue of Rolling Stone.
Mr. and Mrs. Robin Williams are slow dancing. The time: a winter afternoon. The place: a photographer's studio in the Chelsea section of New York. The music: high-decibel funk. Everybody else in the studio is abuzz — adjusting lights, fussing with props, running back and forth from the kitchen with sushi. Still, Williams and his wife, Marsha, keep coming together in these quick, sweet tableaux. It's strange to see the thirty-nine-year-old actor and comedian with his guard down...
Mr. and Mrs. Robin Williams are slow dancing. The time: a winter afternoon. The place: a photographer's studio in the Chelsea section of New York. The music: high-decibel funk. Everybody else in the studio is abuzz — adjusting lights, fussing with props, running back and forth from the kitchen with sushi. Still, Williams and his wife, Marsha, keep coming together in these quick, sweet tableaux. It's strange to see the thirty-nine-year-old actor and comedian with his guard down...
- 8/12/2014
- Rollingstone.com
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