the site was a condemned hotel on the old highway coming into vegas. there's a bus in back, broken down as people's dreams. no more passengers, no driver, no destination. except to rust and eventually crumble.

i shed my wedding dress in the deserted honeymoon suite, thinking of all the ghost relations that had come and gone. they never saw crackling walls, broken windows, gobs of spiderwebs. they couldn't possibly imagine what was coming.

and the lounge. the lounge was no more than an empty record of life leaving you behind. the good times coming to an end like a slow, rotting death.

abandon yourself to the future.