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As unclear dreams go, we gassed up a few miles back and are now pulling into town. Town. An untidy strew of decrepit and peeling clapboard buildings. Okay, a town. After paying for a room – off-white décor, sticky carpet – I step out behind M. into the main street.

“Wonder where’s the best place to eat.”

“May only be one place,” says M.

We gaze vaguely eastward over a sunburned field, absorbing the clear blue brilliance.

Without warning, the unthinkable. A thick column climbs like a tumorous limb...