Mortar

Tour de Force  ***  Driving became quotidian, hypnotic… The snaking asphalt hissed and spit, coiled to strike the blue-jean sky. Billboards fence the road, blurred between Jesus and Adult Pleasure stores – strange landmarks in a world constantly fading… Forgotten strips of pious, rural America – seen through a fisheye of purgatory and binge.  Below…

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