Spent the night translating a passage about ritual surrender from something no one's touched in two centuries. The words did something to me I wasn't ready for. Come see what they left behind.
Spent the night translating a passage about ritual surrender from something no one's touched in two centuries. The words did something to me I wasn't ready for. Come see what they left behind.
The Quarter is stringing beads for a parade and I've been at the foil since before they woke up. The jacket came off three bouts ago. Think you could last a round with me?
The city is off to farmers' markets and jazz brunches while I've been awake so long I forgot what sleep is. The swamp doesn't care what day it is, and neither do I — nothing between me and the moss. Tell me you wouldn't cover me up.
There's a speakeasy for women opening in a few hours and I haven't slept yet. Still deciding whether to watch or be watched. Want to help me choose?
Tomorrow the riverfront fills with mermaids who bought their tails online. I'm three hours into painting my own scales by hand and I still haven't decided where to stop. Want to tell me where the line should be?
Half the Quarter is chasing enlightenment on a yoga mat and the other half is already on its knees for Decadence — neither knows what real discipline looks like. Let me show you.
Southern Decadence doesn't start until tomorrow and the whole Quarter is already sweating for it. I never wait for permission. Come up before the crowds do.
The city spent all night trying to out-sin me and failed beautifully — I barely made it through my own door. You should see what they couldn't.
The séance was adorable — all those trembling hands begging the dead to speak. I came home and shed everything that room made me wear. Want to see what the dark left on me?
Everyone crammed into the Superdome tonight and left me the entire Quarter. Just gas lamps, the heat, and this slip that won't behave. Want to see what I'm doing with all this silence?