317/365 07/05/2026

Every family in The South has in its history an aged, dilapidated mansion. White. A long drive winding through pine or oak and past a wrought iron gate, up to the deep, shady porch. Once magnificent, the mansion now lists like a sinking steamboat, black shadow rectangles where the windows used to be and a swamp that crept up from the backside and soaked the once solid ground that holds the mansion’s foundation.