The landscapes of louisiana do not register time. It is my home. As the sun fades over the mouth of the Mississippi the coastal lands depart from soil, pulled towards the horizon, off to somewhere else. Hurricane kissed buildings sit crooked on worn out planks, begging for one last touch, to even be blown a kiss, so they may rejoin the fold, mixed up with the fish and the dirt. The essence of Louisiana is impermanence, its existence a gentle reminder to those in big cities that life is not so fixed and permanent. Our people cut from the same cloth as the land. Beautiful and transient. Many creeds and colors together in a battle of attrition against time. The people and the land are one. In a smooth flow into and out of itself, no one sees the river - without banks and whole.