Slow Evenings with Stubborn Light: The French Quarter
The Cradle of Colour & Esprit
… and the slow lips that eat and drink and love and speakthat slow luxurious language, savoring each word like a long-missed lover; …
… and the slow-moving nuns, the black habits dragging the swollen ground;and the slow river that cradles it all, and the chicory coffee …
… that cuts through it all, slow-boiled and black as dirt;and the slow dreams and the slow-healing wounds and the slow smoke of it all …
… slipping out, ballooning into the sky—slow, deliberate, and magnificent.– From Going Home: New Orleans by Sheryl St. Germain
Damian is a LA-based writer, dog lover, ice cream lover, and admirer of all things Polar Bang Bang. He proudly chronicles their journeys and work for art lovers the world over to read.
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