I think it's impossible to walk around New Orleans and not think about writing.
It's the houses - they're all shuttered up at street level, but they have those second-floor balconies. The tension between privacy and social life, that compartmentalization, that's so Faulkner, so Tennessee Williams, so Tom Pearson. You can't help but make up stories like that when you see how the buildings mimic the psyche.
This view of backyards that we can see from our hotel fascinates me. Some are lush little gems, some are completely derelict. I've been wandering around taking pictures of buildings ever since we got here.
I'm outraged by how much is still broken and abandoned.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Trite thoughts
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Damn - even this long afterwards, it just hits one that it's still like that in New Orleans. I almost had the chance to go down with a community college service learning class to spend a week volunteering, but I had another class I was involved in and couldn't go. All I can say is wow. Not a good wow, mind you.
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