What does it mean to travel?
I mentioned that sometimes it feels really weird to say as I’m leaving, “I’m going to the Quarter, does anybody want to come?” I used to do that a lot. I don’t do it so much these days.
People come from all over the world to walk our streets. To eat our food. And, to drink way too much of our booze. They can barely taste the 6 ounces of alcohol in our daiquiris. No matter. Usually they confine themselves to a 8 x 13 block area called The French Quarter.
That’s fine. Just remember we are a port city. The city can be rough. Somebody waddling around with a good snoot full is a great mugging target.
There are plenty of police there to protect our visitors, but they can’t be everywhere. Sometimes, the bad guys don’t care. There was a shooting in February — when things were still cooking — that involved a cop and a shooter. The shooter fired at somebody while he was standing next to the cop.
I didn’t say the bad guys were smart.
This is just a small portfolio of my work during two months time, a few years back. I just walked around and made a lot of pictures. I suppose that I was in rare form. Enjoy.
Stay safe. Stay mighty. Enjoy a dozen raw oysters.
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