Photo Title: Motel (Pennsylvania Turnpike, Pittsburgh, 1988) Visit his site to see additional photos.
The photographer lives in New York, and specializes in diversity.
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Try your hand at writing a mystery. It doesn't have to be
about a murder,but if it is, perhaps a crime
of passion? Write from the
Try your hand at writing a mystery. It doesn't have to be
about a murder,but if it is, perhaps a crime
of passion? Write from the
detective's point of view.
What problem are you trying to solve?
Photo used with permission from Albert Watson.
11 comments:
What a great photo!!! I am fascinated by the lonely slice of Americana this image depicts The glowing penumbra around the neon sign as it shines on into the we hours of the night. The solitary automobile indicating a weary traveler stopping to rest on a constantly moving road like the Pa turnpike. The elements of this story are pared down well.
I am sitting here laughing and pondering too. This picture reminds me of my crazy family. My Aunt comes to mind. She is really not my Aunt but a very close family friend. She told my mom one day that she thought her husband of many years was having an affair. She owned a car just like this one. She was driving the other car they owned and saw this same car parked in a motel parking lot!!! She got off the exit and went to that motel to check to see if the car was truly hers. Sure enough it was. She told the motel clerk that she was meeting her husband there. Long story short, she kicked in the door of the room and found her husband with his girlfriend. She then beat the crap out of the man and took his cloth and left him there in his undies. Memories oh how they linger....
he he he!
Thanks so much for sharing.
I know a bit about these. I find a good one every couple of weeks, pack my bag and leave--I normally take the little soaps and towels they leave for you. I hit the Greyhound, and it's off to another place. Repeat until death I suppose.I'm in Winter Park Fl now...trying to head up to Philly at least. Excellent post.
I normally don't respond to comments, but:
Stephen: I agree that photos like this one are fascinating and conjures many questions and stories alike!
Vanessa: You cracked me up so much, because I can visualize your "aunt" kicking in that motel room door, the "other" woman screaming, and the "man" running around in nothing but his underwear:)
Clay: I never knew you traveled around so much. It must an interesting but lonely experience at times.
How is it that you always know so much? Do you have a degree in smartness?
Your comment was brilliant.
Love Renee
I was reading some of the comments, and I've always been curious while driving past motels. Just as I when I pass by houses. Especially driving cross country through small towns. I always wonder what's going on behind those walls. What kind of lives and what kind of experiences are being had by the people inside. You hear so many crazy things on the news, that it's almost normal to start imagining the worst sometimes. I better shut up now, or maybe I should start writing that mystery novel now:)
Your lovely. xoxoox
A Hairy Situation
She had flowing blonde hair. The kind you can only pay to get. She had more curves than a highway through the Rocky Mountains. It was late in the night when she called me to her hotel room. That was a first for me; normally I'd be the one phoning for company to my hotel room.
When people have problems they can't solve, they come to me. I'm a problem solver. A good one.
She sized me up. I sized her up. She asked me, "Do you know why I called you here?"
"I'm guessing it's not for a night of romance," I replied. She smiled the way that dames do when they know something you don't.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and ran her hand slowly over the flower-patterned comforter before patting it, inviting me to sit down.
I sat.
She stared into my eyes and whispered, "I have a little... problem... that I'd like you to take care of."
"That's what I do," I told her.
She turned her head toward the bed before glancing back at me with a coy little smile.
I felt a rush of blood go to my face. I'd been in a lot of situations, but never one like this. Bells were ringing in my head.
Slowly, she pulled back the sheets.
I stopped her. "Lady, you're a real looker," I said, "But you're a little too fast for me. I'm not that kind of guy."
She frowned and pointed to the sheets. They were covered with small, dark hairs.
The room had been cleaned and the bed had been made, but there were dozens of small dark hairs on the sheets. It looked as though a gorilla had spent the night.
"Are you not the customer service manager for this hotel?" she asked, "Then I fully expect you to rectify this."
And I would. But first I had to find out why there were so many hairs on the sheets...
Vaguely inspired by a true story.
(poem by Therese L. Broderick of Albany, NY, USA)
ONE NIGHT STAND
Even the square "O"
on the MOTEL sign
and the black Chevie's
two front headlights
are so shocked
that they all stare
as far as possible
away from that room.
first time participating and wasn't sure I was suppose to post my take in the comment and since it's too long I thought I leave a link instead.
strange affliction
somehow I ended up writing a cliche about cheating spouse but hotel image like this seem to inflict such thoughts
Thank you, Lissa, for sharing your link (and writing) with us:) I'm glad this image was a source of inspiration to you.
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