let’s waltz around

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!

Jack Kerouac

mirror mirror on the wall_

Photobucket

Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.
 
and this was the end to all as we know it