I don’t have many pictures from my trip to New Orleans in 2003 but I have a lot of pictures in my heart. I’ll always remember what it was like to walk down the broken sidewalks in the French Quarter. The dusty dark little antique and thrift shops that I ducked into to buy old postcards… the scary voodoo shop, the boys on the street who beat their drums for money. I feel lucky to have visited. It will never be the same. My heart goes out to those people who call that old place home.