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A Town Called Moon

The doors opened and I stepped down from the air-conditioned cabin of the bus and into the evening heat. The temperature had been climbing all day, but I hadn't noticed. I spent nine hours en route from New York to a town called Moon. While I normally travel by plane, this itinerary deviated from the standard and included a chartered bus. Aside from a few quick breaks, I had passed the better part of the day deep in the comfort of my seat, gazing out the window and swallowed in the sounds of my favorite tunes. The world blurred by. When the vehicle finally stopped, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. The pavement was practically melting. I slid from the bus to the hotel lobby, and while I was going through the routine of checking-in, the golden hour was beginning.

When it comes to traveling, I am a creature of habit. The first thing I do when I walk into a hotel room is open all the windows while I unpack my bags. I cannot simply drop my luggage. The open windows let the natural light pour in while I set up my temporary residence. When you stay in the same hotel brand, place-to-place, every new room feels like a second home. And the light makes it feel more like a house and less like a concrete dormitory. Sometimes, if I don't have other business to tend to, I'll put the television on in the background for a distraction.

As I settled into Moon, the light that flooded my room was a gorgeous yellow-orange. The sky looked like it was on fire. All around, the hum of the air-conditioner reminded me of the temperature just outside my windows. On the television, Roy Scheider was playing Police Chief Brody, debating whether or not to follow his instinct and close the beach in the original JAWS. For what it's worth, he should have. Meanwhile, I had an evening event to prepare for, and my night was just beginning.

Footnotes: All images, Fujifilm X70 with fixed Fujinon 18.5mm f/2.8