A
ll color, all energy, all motion. That’s Mardi Gras to me. I see it in swirls of color. Of people asking for beads. Of joy. As I was looking through my archives I was feeling nostalgic. I realized that was another thing I enjoyed photographing that will live in the past.
Whether it’s my illnesses, or some version of CoVid 19, or crime, or location, I won’t be back this way again.
No, I won’t go to some other city’s version of Mardi Gras. I learn from my mistakes. I went to a Mardi Gras celebration in Albuquerque. It was bleak. All it really did was make me sad.
Oh, I’d go if it was being held in Mobile, Alabama because that’s where our traditions were born. I’ve never been. I’d like to some day.
That’s my story for today. Please don’t mistake this for some kind of deep depression. It’s just a journey through the past in my brain,
It’s the reckoning that I knew would eventually come.
STORYTELLER 
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