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Dance with Chance
Luck deals; New Orleans still chooses.
In New Orleans chance wears a friendly face and still takes your rent when the dice go cold.
Fortune flips like a coin in humid air — heads you parade, tails you learn the long walk home.
Providence is not a contract. It is weather with opinions.
You can bet the whole hopeful purse and watch the table turn to ice before the brass even finishes the phrase.
Chance cuts both ways; that is the honest blade. Do not worship the blade. Learn the grip.
Work is the other hand — steady, unglamorous, still betting on tomorrow when luck ebbs out toward the river.
The glow people call fate is often choice repeated until it looks like magic.
The dice still roll. You still choose when to stand.
JV · Dark Heart Labs