Motel Chronicles

(Foto:Pocheco/Sarah Nichols/www.pocheco.us)


His feet were sweating in the night. He could feel the presence of the automatic pistol, of cattle, of barbed wire, of dice, of riding the night range without a flashlight, of bars plunged into prairie night.
He turned off all the lights in the room and lay on the floor between the two beds. His feet were sweating. He punched the switch of the Realistic tape machine and Stevie Wonder answered the darkness: "Songs in the Key of Life".
He watched an Apache Sand painting appear on the wall out of nowhere. Collors from the land: pale orange sand, chocolate topsoil, pale blue like a tear. He could see yhe glint of Abalone shimmer off the pistol stock. Threads of rosy light. Spinning. He could see his own heart.
He could feel the demonic attachment of a man for his only woman.

Março/1979 San Marcos, Texas

Sam Shepard

Motel Chronicles, página 48 (citado em Paris, Texas, editora Road Movies/Greno, pág 5).