The Undertow of Bayou Country
I I first saw Cassius Boudreaux when I was eight years old, standing knee-deep in the bayou water at the edge of our property, staring at something I couldn't see and wouldn't see for sixty years. It was the summer of 1912, and the heat sat on the bayou like a hand pressing down on your chest. The cicadas were screaming, the mosquitoes were everywhere, and my father had sent me to the edge of...
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