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Unformatted text preview: the parked cars, as she'd done years ago, rather than slip and fall. The cars came slow through these streets. Soft and leafy as Paradise, the Garden District. The traffic waited until she reached the curb, and then with a loud swoosh it moved on behind her. Yes, take to the street. And even here was the litter of Mardi Gras. What a shame, for shame. Why doesn't everyone come out and sweep the banquette? She felt sad suddenly that she had not done this herself this morning as was her plan. She had meant to go out. She liked to sweep. It took her forever. And Alicia would call down to her, "Come inside!" but she swept and swept. "Miss Ancient Evelyn, you've been sweeping out here for hours," Patricia would say. But of course, why not? Will the leaves ever stop falling? Why, whenever she thought of Mardi Gras coming, all that entered her mind was that it was going to be fun to sweep the banquette after. So much rubble and trash. Sweep and sweep. Only something this morning had come between her and the broom. What was it? The Garden District was dead quiet. It really was as if no one had lived here. The noise of the Avenue was so much better. On the Ave- nue, you were never alone; even la...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10