At the junction of the state line of Colorado, its arid western one, and the state line of poor Utah I saw in the clouds huge and massed above the fiery golden desert of eveningfall the great image of God with forefinger pointed straight at me through halos and rolls and gold folds that were like the existence of the gleaming spear in His right hand, and sayeth, Go thou across the ground; go moan for man; go moan, go groan, go groan alone go roll your bones, alone; go thou and be little beneath my sight; go thou, and be minute and as seed in the pod, but the pod the pit, world a Pod, universe a Pit; go thou, go though, die hence; and of Cody report you well and truly.
- THE Jack Kerouac
I am endlessly inspired by the percussive words, woven like a tapestry of emotion, energy and time of Mr. Kerouac. If I could have his intoxicatingly wonderful talent, fuelled by firewater and spirit (both literally and metaphorically), I would be chuffed. I can pass on the drink, but his hypnotising beat is utterly sublime. Yes please.
From an early age, words fascinated me, the innumerable ways you can spin and unfurl story, provoking emotions in a far off reader. That to me is true magic, alchemy in a new form. How is it we can transcend land and time, just through the power of language?