What is lost
We gain alone
And how these things
They grow and grow

Parish, Parish

A lyric essay
Of the NOLA soul

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About the Groundsman Publishing project

I cranked on the single speed, dreaming of Kansas and cycling around the campus. But this was different; not a human in sight, for the seashell-littered street lacked proper houses on its fringe. In a way, I felt free. Alone in desolation, a partnerless sojourner, no immediate deadline, nothing but exploration of soul and NOLA.

I cranked on the single speed, dreaming of Kansas and cycling around the campus. But this was different; not a human in sight, for the seashell-littered street lacked proper houses on its fringe. In a way, I felt free. Alone in desolation, a partnerless sojourner, no immediate deadline, nothing but exploration of soul and NOLA.

1 year ago