the words of william seward burroughs, one of my heroes. he came to tangier in 1953, shortly after shooting his wife to death in a drunken accident in mexico city. he was a heroin addict, a homosexual and an inspiration to those proto-hipsters who became known as the beats. burroughs had nothing about him that was a beat nick. he was a somewhat stuffy, well-dressed st. louis son of a good family gone wrong. he was also to my mind the greatest writer of the whole damn bunch. on the road, you can have it. his classic "naked lunch" was written here. a nonlinear, dark, dry humored searingly critical and satirical and profane masterpiece.