Languid New Orleans Time (Part I).

I offered a preview of the first few paragraphs that follow as a preview to paid subscribers last night. They will be getting the full story. It goes on for pages. It was a long night.

Languid New Orleans Time.

It is too humid to move quickly.  The clouds are sunset pink.  The world will soon be dusk, then dark.  The temperature will not drop.  We live in the sub-tropics.

The porch lights set on timers are lighting up at the shotguns, the double shotguns and the camelbacks in the back.  Cicadas have started their song.  It is not yet dusk.  Time eases its way.  It is a quiet night.  The cicadas offer a pleasant thrum.

This time of evening, the neighborhood chickens make their way to their roosts.  They are in no rush, stopping to peck at the ground, pausing and walking aimlessly.  They know where they are going.  Most of them live under houses.  They know where they belong.