Dean is the reality of the dream. He was on the fringes of society and had no illusions about the end of the road. Looking ahead, he said to the gullible Sal: "You don't interfere with the wishes of others for the rest of your life...and no one else bothers you, you take care of yourself and do your own thing...What's your path, man?" The road, the road of the madman, the road of the colorful, the road of the prodigal man, any road. It is any road, anywhere, for anyone. Where is it, for whom, and how?"
To Sal, his friend Dean is "the beat - the path and soul of bliss", holding the key to unlocking the door to mysterious possibilities and colorful experiences themselves.
"They ran down the street together, looking around as before, but became much sadder and deeper, and then they danced happily in the street, and I hobbled after them as I always did, and all my life I have loved to follow Behind the people I'm interested in, because the only people I'm interested in are the crazy people who live and talk like crazy and want everything at the same time and never crave or talk about mediocre things...they Burning in the night sky like a roman fireworks, erupting brilliant flames."
The specific goals they seek are in the spiritual realm. While they traveled back and forth across the country as soon as they had an excuse, looking for excitement along the way, their real journey was spiritual; if they seemed to cross most legal and moral boundaries, their starting point was simply to hope to find something on the other side. Belief.
"We're going to Los Angeles now!"
"What are you doing there?"
"We don't know it ourselves. Whatever!"
The only thing to do is hit the road.
We bent down and started picking cotton. beautiful view. Across the field were tents, and behind the tents were dry brown cotton fields that stretched to the foothills of the brown wadi in the distance, and beyond that to the snow-capped Sierra Nevadas in the blue morning air.
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