Nevertheless, I realize a certain elegance of manner in his smile. I suppose it comes from the compression of diverse groups living and dying here close together over long stretches of time. I walk home alone in the cool January night. There is no breeze. The humid air has a texture.
Flags droop to triangles.
I feel the mist close to me like a comfortable shirt. The Christmas lights on the hedges in Jackson Square sparkle like blanket of stars. So many small things adhere to make the world. Don't forget to put in ham hocks when you make your red beans and rice. Pork fat rules, unless you are Jewish.