We had been everywhere. We had really seen nothing. And I catch myself thinking today that our long journey had only defiled with a sinuous trail of slime the lovely, trustful, dreamy, enormous country that by then, in retrospect, was no more to us than a collection of dog-eared maps, ruined tour books, old tires, and her sobs in the night - every night, every night - the moment I feigned sleep.
The narrator reflects on a vast journey that, despite its physical breadth, fails to yield meaningful experiences. The phrase suggests that their travels, rather than enriching their understanding of the beautiful country they explored, have left a sense of degradation and loss. Instead of gathering precious memories, they accumulate remnants of a superficial adventure, reducing it to mere material artifacts such as maps and discarded items.
This melancholy realization culminates in...
