So said Jack Kerouac, King of the North American road, in and out of NYC, Truckee and Denver, side trip into Mexico to get stoned and shag hookers, and author of seminal book, got it in one sentence, and below is a photographic trip from Argentina's northern Misiones province, sun up near Campo Grande then through Posadas, following the Rio Parana to Corrientes, water all around, then throwing a left due south to Goya, no ghosts that I saw but it was day lit, via Sante Fe for a two-day halt to sleep in a bed, and onto Concordia and the world's greatest bus station, over the bridge and down through Uruguay via Paysandu, Mercedes, Dolores and so mellow Carmelo before turning up back in good old Colonia del Sacramento at midnight where I tramped into familiar territory, stopped for a coffee in Barbot, the world's first ever restaurant to serve up a French fries pizza (be patient) outside which a long-haired scruffy bloke came up and said "Hi man, remember me?" and I did as he'd sold me weed five minutes after I'd landed there two months earlier, so we chatted about this and that and the road and then we said our 'see you tomorrows' before I checked into the hotel at 2am, bag on floor, showered, and finally the soft sheets of anonymity pulled me into sweet dreams.
"Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.” So said Jack Kerouac, King of the North American road, in and out of NYC, Truckee and Denver, side trip into Mexico to get stoned and shag hookers, and author of seminal book, got it in one sentence, and below is a photographic trip from Argentina's northern Misiones province, sun up near Campo Grande then through Posadas, following the Rio Parana to Corrientes, water all around, then throwing a left due south to Goya, no ghosts that I saw but it was day lit, via Sante Fe for a two-day halt to sleep in a bed, and onto Concordia and the world's greatest bus station, over the bridge and down through Uruguay via Paysandu, Mercedes, Dolores and so mellow Carmelo before turning up back in good old Colonia del Sacramento at midnight where I tramped into familiar territory, stopped for a coffee in Barbot, the world's first ever restaurant to serve up a French fries pizza (be patient) outside which a long-haired scruffy bloke came up and said "Hi man, remember me?" and I did as he'd sold me weed five minutes after I'd landed there two months earlier, so we chatted about this and that and the road and then we said our 'see you tomorrows' before I checked into the hotel at 2am, bag on floor, showered, and finally the soft sheets of anonymity pulled me into sweet dreams. Comments are closed.
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FOTO BEDSIDE TABLERussell Shorto FOOD FOR THOUGHT
‘I don’t understand why when we destroy something created by man we call it vandalism, but when we destroy something created by nature we call it progress.’ Ed Begley Jr. * "The more I see of Humans the more I like my dog." Mark Twain * Only when the Last Tree Is Cut Down, The Last Fish Eaten, And the Last Stream Poisoned, Will Man Realize That Money Cannot be Eaten Cree Indian proverb Nb. Doesn't work in Google Chrome, no idea why not...
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