Summers Full of Porch Bull

Languidly as slowly growing sugar cane, summers pass in South Louisiana where I was raised.  Rocker grooves on Mamma T’s 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.  I’ve coined the phrase Porch Bull to describe these peeled-back moments.  My photographs hold on to the sacred élan between events lived and words spoken.

Mariana Titus