. . the low city . . . the labyrinthine mass of oleander and jasmine, lantana and mimosa . . . —WILLIAM FAULKNER, Absalom, Absalom! They say anything will grow here, and everything eats it. —A LONG-TIME RESIDENT THIS DOESN’T LOOK LIKE AN AMERICAN STREET. It’s lined with architecture, some of it rotting, some of it in the dusty process of preservation; a variety of styles but largely late-eighteenth-century-to-mid-nineteenth-century Spanish-influence, because nearly all the original wooden French buildings burned in 1788 and 1794, while the city was under Spanish rule, and were replaced with stuccoed tiled-roof brick structures with lacy ironwork and—oh look, there’s somebody out on one of the balconies now, smashing windows with a champagne bottle. “That’s all right,” explains a passing stranger who notes our concern, “it’s her place. She’s having some little problems with her family life.” Chameleons skitter across turquoise stucco to disappear among elephant-ear leaves and bougainvillea blossoms, which Tennessee Williams likened to bloodshot eyes.
What do You think about Feet On The Street (2005)?
