I had an overnight guest last week at the Kerouac House.

His name was Adam, and he was traveling.

Not on vacation, not on a trip.

Just. . . traveling.

He didn’t have anywhere to be, he just wanted to keep moving.

So I took himĀ in because he was living the Jack Kerouac life. And I knew if I didn’t, I’d kick myself for years to come.
Continue reading “The Time I Had an Overnight Guest”

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