I read in a New Orleans' Sunday's afternoon peace and quiet. Butterflies and dragon flies flutter by. The train and birds call. Puffy white clouds sail in the blue sky. Here on TR's balcony, just above the treetops I can see the container ships' towers on their way to offload on the other side of the levee.
Gulf air is soft. Gulf air is also presence. Your body pushes through it, it yields. Your body pays its toll for its presence within that presence -- sweat.
The words I just read startle me. They seem to be distilled Scott Fitzgerald but they were written by another writer.
" . . . the hour of apparant grace and promised music . . ."
Author's name behind the cut.
Joan Didion, Play It As It Lays.
The connections, the similarities, between New Orleans and Los Angeles are many and deep.
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