“Raw Living: Picking blackberries, beneath late afternoon sun; a sunset reminiscent of watermelon sangria, as the scent of honeysuckle accosts me and the ducks waddle into the lake. Thanking Mama Nature for her abundance. Loving this candied-sweet southern life.”
“Lowkey punchdrunk off this Sangria-sweet love and all it’s prodigious trappings…”
“Such tenderness, those afternoons and evenings, saying blackberry, blackberry, blackberry.”
“the late afternoon sunlight, warm as oil, sweet as childhood ...”
“Delia picked at the raw sores of her conscience...Drunk or sober, Delia lived in the small town in her heart, ignoring the world in which all her love had turned to grief.”
“I’m not sure what it was or where she sprayed it, but her scent will be the end of the life I loved. And I will find comfort in the simpleness of sitting with her on a Saturday afternoon with nothing else to do.”