The next day, I bought the cheapest plane ticket I could find and booked a night in the Super 8 outside of Coeur d’Alene. The room had red checkered half-curtains and free toothpaste.
Our Land turns particularly bleak at night; bicycles are stolen and dumpsters are torched. In the morning, users who sleep rough light spoons and burn up powders in front of little kids going to school.
But today there was a cabin. A small, rough thing. Caked in leaves. Inside, they found old cans and an old bed and an old table. Inside, they found a calendar stuck on July 1992.