On the way back from Chicago, I stopped in a gas station outside of Knoxville. It was an incredible place. First off, the bathrooms were an obnoxious green. However, apparently they were at one time a purple color, because people went nuts and scratched through the paint to deface the walls. This was done in both the men's and women's bathrooms. No, I didn't go in the women's bathroom. I could just see it when the door opened up.
So then, the music playing was some 80s hair metal station. Great. Third, the woman working there had her baby with her behind the counter. Then the fourth awesome thing about this station was their postcard selection. I scored the two postcards you see below. They were only .50 cents each and look at those beveled edges! Isn't that rock cut impressive? The postcards were new, but the photographs were probably several decades old at this point.
Now I'm not mocking or making fun of any of this. I find it terribly interesting and there was a certain order to everything. It seemed genuine and authentic. One of my favorite things is getting to experience something like that, something that is totally in balance with itself, even if that balance looks like something other than what we are familiar with. We shouldn't think or judge, balance is balance, we can't bring our preconceived notion of what something should be like or look like. One should just recognize when something is in unison with itself. That gas station was more real than most of the city I live in.
