We’re on holiday in America. It’s an itinerary that I’ve put together to see some interesting sights and the others have come along for the ride. We seem to be accompanied by a red petrol mower that we have to cart everywhere. When we’re not pushing it, it ends up in the back of a black pick-up truck. We’re staying at a redneck caravan park inside some motel rooms dug out from the ground. There’s sliding windows on metallic frames with sliding doors, and the bedroom is functional. There’s leather look bedding with brown cushions to match. Outside, there’s stone pillars supporting a porch which has a roof of grass. As I lie on the porch’s sunbed I casually toss a frisbee. It hits the stone pillar and a stone falls out. Then there’s a rumbling. Behind the room is a tower of flats, and it starts to implode on itself.
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