Hotel Breakfast on a Road Trip
The hotel dining room smells of omelets, bacon, and onions, accompanied by the music of eating: metallic chimes of forks and knives tapping ceramic plates, percussion of coffee cups hitting tabletops, the occasional morsels of overheard sentences concerning biofuels and predictions of impending restructurings in one company or another. “…can’t keep spending money... How can they keep her on… …flies out every week… district in Missouri… upgraded last month… …a Crown Royale…great ride.” Exotic musings to this little family of four traveling down I-75 in the winter holidays. And all the while, snow is falling lightly, from a wind so fierce the snow is horizontal outside the window in front of us. A giant log rolls by adrift from upriver. Roots barely visible above the waterline; separated from its native soil, Maysville perhaps, Pittsburg, Coney Island, now in an unknown element and riding the currents. Traveling south. please note--art by Ian Walker, crystal microscopy