(*) August 5, Bar Harbor, Maine, USA: At 11 a dark night a clown appears in the motel parking lot at the entrance to Bar Harbor, a small town on the coast of Maine. Appears alone, in silence and in the midst of a solid dark, without moon or streetlights, walking with slow movements and an indifferent course, is limited to roam the park with a smile as enigmatic as his presence there.
Bar Harbor is located in Acadia National Park at the foot of Mount Cadillac, the pride of the villagers, whose modest 466 meters makes it the highest peak in the U.S. east coast. The coast in the strict sense, since it is on the same sea. In exchange for its low altitude provides a 360 degree panoramic view of the forest and the bare limestone rocks at his feet, the ocean and were-for your property, neighboring islands, as it is in the center of a small peninsula of glacial origin, as its inhabitants. The sunset over the Bay of the French is the height of the holiday program in which tourists head in droves to the top. Tourism is a spontaneously organized, familiar and respectful protocols visitor's own nature, without other ambition than to forget for a while with loss of the natural. There is an information center that collects and reports input paths, scenic views and attractions, but does not interpret the park, more in the habit of Protestant austerity and lack of modernity. A caring volunteer, clothing and aspirations of ranger offers an extensive survey to measure visitor satisfaction. The questionnaire consists of responses rated on and seal for disposal. Completed the evening by the sun on time laconic, peat is removed disciplined to the famous lobster dinner place and walk the four blocks of the town and the port card. The script is repeated subject only to changes of the seasons.
The motel is on the road to the village, on the right and two blocks from the church, close enough to be part of it and far enough away to be motel. It is a modest motel, clean, spacious and dimly lit, with a clear parking, bleak and useful, and a lack of personality that allows you to enjoy anonymity and deal effectively with the record of the night, the two most wanted by users of this type of accommodation.
tourist Only when the procession has been gathered in the village, returning to the surrounding desolation, is the time when the clown appears, hiding more than showing off with a remote display shame over this eccentric look at a place under an order as expected. After a while away and find the clown costume on the counter of the tiny front office. The motel is run by a man and a young woman, closer of marriage partners. The husband looks like jerk peaceful and educated by dealing with tourism, not one of those who cling to his wife when he loses his baseball team. It is the woman who justifies, rather than explained, it is she who has dressed as a clown for testing before the next birthday party your child. Talk of the event with a quiet devotion, without resignation or intention to use it as shelter from inevitable and loved solitude, with a mix of security and knowledge that makes it uniquely your own, impossible to decipher by anyone other than her. While talking maintains the same smile that had the clown away. A short scar on humble mountain runs left side of the face, near the corner of his mouth, making her a warm smile frequent face involuntary complicity with the speaker. The story he tells with such kindness and certainty will not be understood by clarifying the enigma of the principle that the people long ago, where he was born and where not out, is not their jurisdiction. Still living away in it, no intention of leaving, because the mere pretense of doing so would highlight accusations that feels neither wants to do and make him unbearable his autism, forced to play on other decor. At the end of the day, the calm assurance conveyed by this woman can only occur in half so foreign to her as is their people. Her warmth is an invitation to the stranger to be complicit in passing, as she lives. As a mathematical indeterminacy, his figure is only a concept, to narrow results incomprehensible. Not only intended to interpret.
Bar Harbor is located in Acadia National Park at the foot of Mount Cadillac, the pride of the villagers, whose modest 466 meters makes it the highest peak in the U.S. east coast. The coast in the strict sense, since it is on the same sea. In exchange for its low altitude provides a 360 degree panoramic view of the forest and the bare limestone rocks at his feet, the ocean and were-for your property, neighboring islands, as it is in the center of a small peninsula of glacial origin, as its inhabitants. The sunset over the Bay of the French is the height of the holiday program in which tourists head in droves to the top. Tourism is a spontaneously organized, familiar and respectful protocols visitor's own nature, without other ambition than to forget for a while with loss of the natural. There is an information center that collects and reports input paths, scenic views and attractions, but does not interpret the park, more in the habit of Protestant austerity and lack of modernity. A caring volunteer, clothing and aspirations of ranger offers an extensive survey to measure visitor satisfaction. The questionnaire consists of responses rated on and seal for disposal. Completed the evening by the sun on time laconic, peat is removed disciplined to the famous lobster dinner place and walk the four blocks of the town and the port card. The script is repeated subject only to changes of the seasons.
The motel is on the road to the village, on the right and two blocks from the church, close enough to be part of it and far enough away to be motel. It is a modest motel, clean, spacious and dimly lit, with a clear parking, bleak and useful, and a lack of personality that allows you to enjoy anonymity and deal effectively with the record of the night, the two most wanted by users of this type of accommodation.
tourist Only when the procession has been gathered in the village, returning to the surrounding desolation, is the time when the clown appears, hiding more than showing off with a remote display shame over this eccentric look at a place under an order as expected. After a while away and find the clown costume on the counter of the tiny front office. The motel is run by a man and a young woman, closer of marriage partners. The husband looks like jerk peaceful and educated by dealing with tourism, not one of those who cling to his wife when he loses his baseball team. It is the woman who justifies, rather than explained, it is she who has dressed as a clown for testing before the next birthday party your child. Talk of the event with a quiet devotion, without resignation or intention to use it as shelter from inevitable and loved solitude, with a mix of security and knowledge that makes it uniquely your own, impossible to decipher by anyone other than her. While talking maintains the same smile that had the clown away. A short scar on humble mountain runs left side of the face, near the corner of his mouth, making her a warm smile frequent face involuntary complicity with the speaker. The story he tells with such kindness and certainty will not be understood by clarifying the enigma of the principle that the people long ago, where he was born and where not out, is not their jurisdiction. Still living away in it, no intention of leaving, because the mere pretense of doing so would highlight accusations that feels neither wants to do and make him unbearable his autism, forced to play on other decor. At the end of the day, the calm assurance conveyed by this woman can only occur in half so foreign to her as is their people. Her warmth is an invitation to the stranger to be complicit in passing, as she lives. As a mathematical indeterminacy, his figure is only a concept, to narrow results incomprehensible. Not only intended to interpret.
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