Colorful,, Photography, Pictures, Ray Laskowitz
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The Parade. Itself.

Buried in color.

Buried in color.

It’s all color. Music. Smiles. Dancing. Brass Bands. Mardi Gras Indians. Social Clubs. People.

Once Upon a time, this was called The Battlefield. It still is a battlefield. In a way. Everybody shows their best stuff. The battle is for beauty. Feathers. Sequins. Beads. Serious stuff, y’all.

Super Sunday. There is no place I’d rather be. On that day.

A note: A working note. Somebody wrote and said yesterday that it looked like I was everywhere. Maybe. Maybe not. Here’s the deal. I don’t play music. I can’t sing much. I can’t sew. But, I can photograph. And, I can dance a little too.That’s how I contribute. You may think that Super Sunday is only about what you see on these pages. But, it’s my Super Sunday too. I do what I do. And, to do it, I keep the rhythm too. I dance a little. I couldn’t make these pictures without it.

The parade, itself.

The parade, itself.

Making a joyful noise.

Making a joyful noise.

Baby Indian.

Baby Indian.


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