God! How dusty the road was! For months I was walking across the US coast to coast, with my guitar, my long hair, and my backpack full of books, poetry, and a bundle of clothes.
The Arizona desert smiled at me in all its immense sobriety, with some cactus lost in the vastness of space, almost pointing to the sky above my head.
My songs kept me company along with certain Thoreau’s books. Every new village, lost in an America forgotten by God, seemed to me as crowded as a metropolis. In the drugstores I bought supplies for the following days: some canned beans, dried fruit, and biscuits. Continue reading “Playing my songs”