tisdag 4 december 2012

Tuscola, Il.

is a goodforgiven town I visited some years ago. I stayed at a windy motel, 
met the Sheriff, sat by the road and made this aquarell. 
This once was a fertile, grassy praire, I was told, where indians dwelled. 
Mr Mayer lives over there. Or did in 1986. Besides being a farmer
he was keen on collecting old cars. 
Spoke of the corn, the market, and the weather. 
The land he looked out over was owned by a lady living in Germany.
Eventually I filled the car, went north, approaching Chicago.
I will probably never se Tuscola again.

Inga kommentarer: