were all these tired faces in the dawn of Jazz America

"i woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when i didn't know who i was — i was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I'd never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and i looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn't know who i was for about fifteen strange seconds."



i would like to meet somebody who will join me on a road-trip to which On The Road is the map.