Su brought a poem to a creative writing class when she was in college. The professor “rewrote” it for her. When she suggested that it no longer said what she wanted to say, he said, “What’s important is that I made it better.” Su suggested he write his own fucking poems and walked out, and never went back.
The professor was an idiot, but Su learned something important; you can teach craft, you can teach mechanics, but don’t tell an artist what to communicate. She’s carried this lesson forward her entire life.
The Cafe du Monde is more than a rich chicory blendserved in thick ceramic mugs;it’s powdered sugarturning your denim thighsto baby-blue pastelas you dig out a dollarfor the sax playeron the sidewalk six feet away —a musician with eyesthat see heaven when he blows,but go dead with despair andtoo much…