I want to see what’s the mood in the motel bedrooms.
I pick the one with the most people gathered outside the entrance.

Good afternoon sir. Sir? Hey hi, sorry if I’m bothering you! Are you the owner? Look, could I shoot a portrait of you and afterward you tell me something about you and your products? He nods. Great! then I’ll wait for you inside your room. In the meantime I can change the roll of film I just finished, I think.

Suddenly, a woman appears from behind a curtain. She’s cooking huge sausages in a tiny frying pan on a mini camping stove—inside what looks like the bedroom closet. Oh God! I immediately think how bad my luck is that I’m stuck in the middle of changing this stupid roll, it would have been a smashing photo the one of her and those sausages among the crystals. God, I miss digital! Are you the owner’s wife, I ask? Where do you guys come from? She does not understand nor speak a word of English.

In a whip the husband comes in, we clearly have to hurry. What? Which stone? There’s no time! Is this a good spot for your photo? Come on!!

Listen, can you at least give me a business card? I’ll send you the picture! Nope, There’s no time. Click, he’s gone. Senhorita, você gostaria de um poco de linguiça? Do you want some sausage? asks me his wife in Portuguese.