The Explanation
(for those who require one)

And, of course, that is what all of this is -- all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs -- that song, endlesly reincarnated -- born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 -- same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, Where Dead Voices Gather

The Art of Travel #14

1 comment :

Vanwall said...

Ah, back when the traveler's ne-plus-ultra accessory of the moment was a BOAC flight bag, casually slung from the tanned shoulder of a leggy, pony-tailed redhead in a pale yellow sleeveless top, black capri pants and espadrilles, her oversized sunglasses at half-mast on her lightly freckle-dusted nose, and one hand holding the wide brim of a raw-edged Costa Rican straw hat as she steps off the early flight - the latest DeHavilland Comet - into the brilliant Caribbean sunlight.