Houma and Thibodaux had a kind of magic we’re still trying to untangle.
It began with a sunset beer at the canal bar. On our way back to the marina, we met Shannon—jazz saxophonist, teacher, local historian, Mardi Gras parade organizer, down-bayou girl, and pure Fuck Yeah energy.
What followed felt like a dream with headlights: a midnight tour that slipped into the Chauvin Sculpture Garden, then kept drifting—three bayou fingers deep, into Shannon’s childhood neighborhood, her home bayou, late-night snacks from an unnamed store, an early morning visit to the Delta Queen.
Time bent. The water was always just beside us. And somehow the whole delta felt like it was opening a door.
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