What feels like a lifetime ago, I did quite a bit of traveling around the country. On a particularly long stretch of seemingly endless highways and byways, I read Jack Kerouac’s On the Road.

As you can see from his own interpretation, it’s a beautiful piece of literature, and it can only be made more intimate as you pass through nameless towns and rolling hills. To me, On the Road is a manifesto about forward progression, both literally and physically.

I think it’s time I pick it up again and remind myself of the strange sensation that comes from leaving everything behind and simply moving forward.