Goodbye New Orleans

It was a little more than a week ago when I left New Orleans, city of my rebirth, and while I am gone it is not forgotten. No other place has affected me as has that city. That vibrant and tragic and sleepy and balmy and difficult and beautiful and wonderful city.

From walking down shaded Willow street on a humid afternoon, eating a snowball.
From ducking out of Ampersand on a Sunday morning, squinting and wondering where the hell all this sunlight came from.
From a coffee shop in the Marigny, where you're never quite Bohemian enough--
From a balcony in the Quarter on a lazy afternoon, watching tourists below with their beers and Hand Granades.
From being sheltered by a sudden summer storm on the porch of the Columns, sipping bourbon.
From riding down Lakeshore Drive, buried under the influence, staring at Pontchartrain in all it's black monstrosity.
From beneath the oaks of City Park--
From a club on Frenchman where the brass and the funk roll out into the street--
From a bar on Bourbon, wasted--
From a restaurant on Magazine, stuffed--
From a bumpy streetcar ride, to a stroll down Esplanade Avenue, through the wild-eyed, bustling majesty of Canal Street, and a sunset over the Mississippi--

If time allows, if I settle down again, how could it be anywhere else? There is no other place.

That city is part of my blood.