"Turpentine Camp – Cross City"

Essay by Zora Neale Hurston

Page 1

Essay by Zora Neale Hurston 1

Transcript

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TURPENTINE

Well, I put on my shoes and I started. Going up some roads and down some others to see what Negroes do for a living. Going down one road I smelt hot rosin and looked and saw a “gum patch.” That’s a turpentine still to the outsider, but gum [patch] to those who work them.