03 February 2020


powdered sugar


I sat with two friends at a small white table at cafe du monde in new orleans. we drank cups of hot coffee with chicory and ate beignets until our fingers were sticky with sugar and evening light dimmed to blue. I noticed our server outside the cafe on a smoke break, perched on top of a cement street bollard. legs dangling, cigarette dangling. I wandered outside, asked her how long she'd been working. too long, she said and I nodded. I looked down, noticed her boots. pointed my camera at them and she smiled. 

powdered sugar, she said.
I can't get away from it. 
it's everywhere. 


  1. Replies
    1. I'm a little late with this but thank you, friend! xo

  2. absolutely loving these "once" pictures and stories.... and absolutely thinking about how I don't know if I remember enough stories to do the same... and also freaking out about memory in general as I'm watching my mom lose hers. These posts are gorgeous!

    1. thank you so much-- I panic every once in a while, wonder if I have enough stories to even make it a year. they keep coming to me, though. in little waves and in different ways. (thinking about you and your mom, can only imagine how hard that is) xo