A year ago, I made my first visit to New Orleans. Instead of staying at the hotel where the conference I was attending and speaking at was taking place, my partner and I opted for an apartment clear across the French Quarter in the Treme. Walking the mile-and-a-half to and from the event each day was a treat. The mornings were a meditative time to explore the streets and take in the beauty of the architecture, but the evenings provided subtle visual and auditory magic on the way back to our abode away from home. The clatter of horse-drawn carriages, laughter and conversation tinged with varying degrees of intoxication, and music from indiscernible windows filled the air. And turning a quiet corner one night, we heard the gentle the whir and clanks of a bicyclist pedaling by.
Two years ago, this planter box appeared along the sidewalk at a nearby school. Shortly thereafter, stalks of corn emerged from the soil within and became one of my favorite places to stop and pause during strolls in the neighborhood.
The lyrics/poetry of Leonard Cohen were scrawled on the front of the box back then and slowly faded to a point of being barely discernable…until recently, that is. Once again, the box springs forth with inspiration for anyone who cares to stop and read as they walk on by.
ring the bells that still can ring
forget your perfect offering
there is a crack in everything
that’s how the light gets in
– Leonard Cohen
A Halloween tip: When out on the street at night, it’s always good to look up from time to time. You never know if an adorable ghoul is looking at you from above. Happy trick-or-treat day!
This is far from the typical July 4th image, but it’s one of my favorite found flag moments. And it reminds me that I need to walk around the Mission with my camera with a little more frequency.
Zelda installed her new flag today. In a fortuitous yet unintentional way, this is my ode to Robert Frank and his iconic photo from a parade in Hoboken, NJ.
In the past week, Amsterdam has come up at least four or five times in the course of spoken and written conversation. Flipping through images from my brief visit in 2006, I am reminded by how inherently artful this city truly is. How I long to once again stroll the streets, but perhaps next time, I will be rolling the streets on a squeaky creaky bicycle.