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Rhythm of Fall
Autumn as second-line elegy.
Fall in New Orleans does not apologize for change. Leaves jazz their colors, harvest fills the table, then bare branch teaches the other invoice.
Cycle is not cruelty only. It is rhythm — ebb like blues, rebirth like second line, beauty filed beside ending.
Big Easy truth: even surrender can dance if the band agrees.
The brass still plays for the bare trees.
JV · Dark Heart Labs