Arising from the loamy soil and red clay emits the realm of cotton and tobacco. Their breaths are a land of drudgery where drops of scarlet seep from hands that pick the whites of her thorny eyes. Growing in fields of lost magnolias and gardenias adrift, where scentless trees play jazz for fairies and whippoorwills.
Aromas of flour bread a cooking and pickled pigs feet served up with a side of salt pork. Shelling peas on the swing with my auntie. Sniffing fresh sheets as lively winds blow linens on a clothesline, bringing them life with hearsays.
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