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Summers Full of Porch Bull

 Languidly as slowly growing sugar cane, summers pass in South Louisiana where I was raised.  Rocker grooves on Mamma Tís front porch mark the tick-tock of time, a metronome for conversations about cooking, romance, the good ole days, oilfields and cane fields.  A Cacophony of different accents blends together to create the rhythms of bayou life.  Iíve coined the phrase Porch Bull to describe these peeled-back moments.  My photographs hold on to the sacred ťlan between events lived and words spoken.

Mariana Titus

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