|"French Quarter Fireflies"|
She spent her days reading tarot cards on the slick-backed benches of birch picnic tables near a cafe, common for the gathering of gypsy souls and the left-footed dancers who'd lost their way. By night she'd gather words into a notebook atop her lap as the fireflies hummed beneath the ancient globes of streetlights. Nothing's ever been as beautiful since that smoky city beneath cloud-break and moonlight.
Created for a postcard challenge at Sunday Postcard Art.