In my dreams last night
Lole showed me pictures of him working on the icebergs, the pictures were faded and stained and brown and white. Down the street was a street of New Orleans I'd never seen before, it was hidden and quiet and lovely. In the house on its corner the rooms were painted bright and beautiful. It was a house I knew of, renovated. Timmy said it was her uncle's. I was dumbfounded, she said I could probably live there if I wanted to. How I wanted to. The floor was hardwood and the wood that went halfway up the wall was topped by horizontal wood painted teal.