it's his grandma's favorite spice. His grandma told him that the dog was the color of cayenne. "She used too much, though. Enough to catch your mouth on fire." I ask if his grandma lives with him. It happens a lot out here. Three generations sometimes four cramped into single-wide trailers. "The cancer got her," he says. "She went up to heaven, and now she plays a harp all day long."
Boy on Canal
it's his grandma's favorite spice. His grandma told him that the dog was the color of cayenne. "She used too much, though. Enough to catch your mouth on fire." I ask if his grandma lives with him. It happens a lot out here. Three generations sometimes four cramped into single-wide trailers. "The cancer got her," he says. "She went up to heaven, and now she plays a harp all day long."