A testo ! faith
The Ku Klux Klansman’s stepson was at the end of the bar, pouring another Budweiser over ice. It was 37° C outside on the highway that ran from the old plantations down toward Charleston by the sea, and the humidity was Congolese. America’s most beautiful, most haunted city was in mourning, yet again—nine Christian believers, all of them African-American, shot down at Bible study before by, allegedly, an addled, paleface son of the beaten South.