The Lantern is a place where people gather. Amidst Texas’s radiant sunset, dusk approaches and the rivers edge becomes alive with the sound of crickets. After a long day water skiing with family at the river, you dry off and start to head home. A little tired, a little sunburnt, a light beckons you to come closer, one last adventure for the day.

A pavilion engulfs you with music, dancing, and laughter. You smell a mixture of foods, from Texas barbeque to sweet corn arepas and strawberry lemonade. You ask “who’s hungry?” and everybody perks up.

After you dock and grab some grub outside at the food trucks, you find yourself within a familiar space. The shape and studs tell you that once

“I was a house,” but now speaks in softer tones basking in the glow of age. The house speaks a different language now, it speaks in the language of paper, of laughter, of light ,and smoke.  The breeze cools you as you sit down to feast. You notice the logo on the placemat in front of you and smile to yourself.

“I guess lanterns work on people too.”