Lawson Pines: New Orleans is a siren of a city. A place of fables and illusion. A place Lorraine had to escape from and Bobby and I had to escape to. Away from Alabama, away from lives that no longer belong to us.
Bobby Long: Now just exactly who is Plato and who is Socrates in this equation? Cause fuck, I'll just stay out.
Lawson Pines: You are Socrates, of course. You are the teacher.
Bobby Long: Goddamn right I am.
Pursy Will: I wish you'd all just shut up. Cause if it's gonna be like this, I ain't learning nothing.
Bobby Long: Girl, your English is fucking atrocious.
Lawson Pines: Autumn comes slowly in New Orleans. The grass remains a stubborn green, but the heat gives way to a gentle warmth. Pursy did begin to catch on in school. She was surprised. We weren't. Winter arrived before we realised the sunlit hours of summer had waned. So now the wine began to outlast the day and that was more than anyone could've asked for.
Lawson Pines: It was our home that night. All of ours. We both knew we should tell her the truth, but every day felt like the wrong day. And Christmas is as good a day as any to believe in fairy tales. That night reminded Bobby and me of a time in our lives we'd both chosen to forget until she'd arrived. It felt good to remember, if just for a little while.
Lawson Pines: Time was never a friend to Bobby Long. It would conspire against him, allowing him to believe in a generous nature and then rob him blind everytime. We'd lost Lorraine. All of us. But long before she died.
The Spirit: My city, I can not deny her. My city screams. She is my mother. She is my lover, and I am her Spirit.
The Spirit: "What are you?" That's what the woman asked me. Am I some sort of ghost? I still move. I still breathe. I'm still alive.
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