I mean, come on

March 23rd, 2013, 2pm

If you were to ask me what you’re looking at, exactly, I’d be somewhat at a loss.

We were en route to the Provence, taking a break at this rest stop, when we encountered Groucho Marx and Charlie Chaplin having a jolly good car crash. Other parties involved were hard to identify, because their heads were missing. All rendered in a material ominously looking like asbestos cement.

Now imagine me standing on a parking lot which smelled like gasoline & tourism, pondering the nature of man.

Maybe it was meant to be entertaining in some unfathomable way. Or as a humorous wink to motorists: “Don’t travel in haste, folks, or you might end up like these guys here.” The scavenging sparrows loved sitting there and taking the occasional dump on decapitated effigies of human beings. Obviously it was their favorite rest stop.

I kept a safe distance, savoring the moment.

Lia, Craig, Danielle, Cassie and 2 others said thanks.

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Marcus Hammerschmitt

Writer, journalist and photographer. Eighteen books so far, on paper and on screen. My biography is boring, my life is not.

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