The Mississippi ran brown and thick through New Orleans, carrying the silt of a continent's exploitation from the mountains to the sea. Boyd Calloway stood on the levee and watched it flow, thinking about how some things never changed.
His great-grandfather had been a slave on a plantation near Natchez. His grandfather had bought his freedom with money earned as a steamboat pilot. His father had died in a cotton field at forty-two, his lungs filled with lint and his pockets empty. Boyd was thirty-four, and he was tired of cotton fields.The Planetary Engine Project had come to New Orleans six months ago, bringing work and...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior