Bertrand Belin - "Peggy". I stayed, once, at a motel in northern Portugal. There were palm trees. There was a bright blue neon sign, in cursive writing. Wait, wait; maybe this wasn't that hotel in Portugal. Maybe it was in Louisiana, a Comfort Inn. Maybe it was in the bayou. Maybe the sky was southerly and warm. Maybe stars pinpricked through the dark. Maybe country music was playing. Maybe Portuguese pop. Maybe I was with my family, maybe I was alone, maybe I was longing for a friend, maybe there were friends everywhere. Was there a kitty-cat, lounging on the sill? Were their songbirds? Black flies? Maybe I was about to do something extraordinary, inimitable, incredible. Maybe it was just another Sunday. One thing is certain: you can ride the highways forever, in circles. One thing is certain: digital letters glow red in the night. One thing is certain: standing in an empty dining hall, when the staff has gone to bed, you feel like a conjurer who can make anything appear. [buy]

---

SappyFest's this weekend; best fest in the world; can't wait.

(photo by Thomas Prior)