No comment can make them alive again: they have gone some other place, some other time... Those crazy poets, wonderful wanderers, so human and so divine, so simple and still so far from the ordinary. They are the true spirit of the first pioneers, seeking an unknown unexplored space, inside! To have a glimpse of those gone lands, to scratch the surface of those lost moments, watch this and if you find yourself asking where those Beats have gone, you will find the answer.
The cuts are clean, the time of recollection is brought by silence, between words, between the frames. Very polite, and sincere, almost an apology. The longing remains. Can you still hit the road to enlightenment? No answer is given. And them survivors can still proclaim 'I'm still burning'. Them dead are still dead, their dry mouths wording without sound. The fire has spread, from lamp to lamp, and the trip has now some clear signs along the path. This is the witness bringing testimony to their uncommon greatness. Observe it!
The cuts are clean, the time of recollection is brought by silence, between words, between the frames. Very polite, and sincere, almost an apology. The longing remains. Can you still hit the road to enlightenment? No answer is given. And them survivors can still proclaim 'I'm still burning'. Them dead are still dead, their dry mouths wording without sound. The fire has spread, from lamp to lamp, and the trip has now some clear signs along the path. This is the witness bringing testimony to their uncommon greatness. Observe it!