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.
Jack Kerouac, On The Road
This week we hit the road, spending two weeks road tripping around New Zealand. Our show focused on travel and the way it changes people and their conception of travel over time. We read from Rimbaud, Jack Kerouac, Lewis Carroll, Proust, Deleuze and Baudelaire, writers who explored the notion of travel through poetry, prose and philosophy!
The only true voyage of discovery, the only fountain of Eternal Youth, would be not to visit strange lands but to possess other eyes, to behold the universe through the eyes of another, of a hundred others, to behold the hundred universes that each of them beholds, that each of them is…
Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time, V