the secrets of a motel room
When I spend a night in a motel, I always think about the room’s history. About what has happened in there, who has used the bed, the toilet, who has hided behind the curtains, and looked out on the parkinglot where their car is the only one.
I’m thinking who, what and when. And make up my own stories.
Like Lyndon Wade do.
His photo collection called Room 107 tells the story of the life at a motel, of happiness and joy, loneliness and despair. As the photographer himself puts it:
This is were people come and leave; leave wet towels on the bathroom floor, leave half-full beer bottles on the nightstand, leave the bed unmade, hair on the toilet seat, stains on the ceiling, glitter in the carpet, holes in the wall, leave their wives, their lives, a mess for the morning maid. An after an hour, a day, a month, they leave all that they have left. And you check in.
It’s probably unnecessary to say, but I do it anyway: The photos are amazing.