About a week or two ago, Clunkline went on an adventure to Breezewood, the magical town of motels that is halfway to everywhere. If materialism took a shit and a highway rest stop rolled in it, you would call it Breezewood. All three of us were excited to have finally arrived at our historic destination, and doctor_subtle’s camera was there to document the entire weeklong vacation.
|Ancient Breezewoodian petroglyphs in front of the Mexican Temple.||A sign pointing out the Breezewood Beltway and the Breezewood Metro.|
|The beautiful view from Breezewood Overlook.||A vintage sign from Breezewood’s historic district.|
|The entrance to Breezewood Museum.||Breezewood postcards for sale in the museum.|
|doctor_subtle wanted to buy a pink pistol from the museum, but they didn’t complete the background check in time.||J-tin having a tussle with the local wildlife.|
|I never thought these were real. But Breezewood is where you see everything that you don’t want to be real. And then you buy it.||Wagaa-Pu, the ancient Breezewoodian peoples’ God of Uncleanliness.|