After a trip to Nebraska, my friend Andy wrote the first two lines of a poem about the state:
God bless Nebraska, where everyone is nice.
God bless Nebraska, where ketchup is a spice.
What I don’t know is if Nebraska has actual Fancy Ketchup, the way this recently-departed Dairy Queen did.
Some of the buildings that used to house the motel are down to the slab now, but the floor tile in the bathrooms is still in place.
This is the floor from two different bathrooms, with a gap where the wall used to be. But it reminded me of M. C. Esher’s drawing of geese transforming themselves into fish, so in my mind*, that gap was the space where hexagons transformed into rectangles.
*Yes, it’s weird in there.
A side street in downtown Bryan seems plain, but if you look at it long enough the subtle complexities start to show up. Like the rhythm of the parking-space lines. The pair of downspouts bracketing the door. The paired up bench and trash can. The street light’s shadow. A bit of graffiti. A wavy bit of wire hanging from the wall. The line that crosses the street and heads straight to the door.
And so on.