I loved everything and everyone. The energy is just so intoxicating. There’s so many artists and crafters everywhere. People were just throwing up tables in the middle of the street in front of the hotel after it got dark. I adored the openness of the Quarter, the metal bars, the people at the metal bars…
By pure luck, I was able to go to New Orleans, kind of out of the blue. I’d never been, which was kind of weird considering that I lived in Texas for many years. I was insanely excited to go, but nothing in the world could have prepared me for the bittersweet that was about to hit me.
Have you ever been somewhere new and felt like it was home? Like it was exactly where you’re supposed to be? I’ve felt like that in the woods, but living in a tent isn’t really feasible. That is, until this trip. I actually seriously considered living on the street if it meant staying. I was in love with this little city.
I didn’t even mind the two young dudes that tried to threaten me when I was a little lost and wandering down some street that was fairly empty. It takes a lot more than two cocky punks to scare me. I was well armed anyway (not guns).
I knew if I left, I’d likely never go back, but if I stayed, I’d lose everything including my Lizzy. So, I went back to St Louis. I was so depressed for so long after that though. It felt like a tease of a life I could have, but realistically will never obtain. This… this coming from someone who swears would never, ever move anywhere that’s below sea level, gets earthquakes, or anywhere else Nature clearly says “don’t live here.” My fear of water and drowning tossed aside; I would have gladly suffered a drowning if it meant living in an environment that truly embraces the creative and weird.
As for the photos, I wasn’t really focused on taking too many pictures. This was a world that deserved my own eyes. The few that I have I took with my phone and were pretty crappy. I tried to clean them up a little bit though. Hopefully they don’t suck too much.
