California, July 2016 – http://www.vierundsechzig.de/f64/2016/10/30/drive/

Ravenwood Motel: Seasons of Decay; deceased insects laid to rest in dusty corners, speckles on the wallpaper like it got old-people’s-marks,

The manager being the only one wearing a gingham-shirt and a bright red tie, everybody else is dressed in black&white; the waiter with bis shirt buckling at the belt and having slipped out of his pants; They say, the food is excellent; the thick walls,

the exhaustion coming up from the kitchen, the low hum of the fan up to half-past eleven, starting again at six-thirty with the smell of grease and bacon…

checking into this motel next to a wilderness, the forest black and neverending behind the parking lot, the oad connecting two middle-of-nowheres; the manager never tires of telling stories of who came and who left and who did not leave at all…