despair and mist (challenge with Hope and Sunrise)

I had delusions of granduer when I went to New Orleans for the first time, I believed that I would find the locals to be bigger than life, and the French quarter something out of a fairy tale. While I found both to be true, what really drew me in wasn’t the locals or the wrought iron or the cobblestone streets, what drew me in were the cast aways, locals or tourists once, trapped in this haunted city with no money and little sanity left to escape. I met a man that I would have done anything he asked of me, He was a beauty beyond compare, and as I handed a five dollar bill to a gothic strung out teenager trying to get back home, or anywhere but there, the beautiful man chastized me for giving away my money. “Don’t” he said, “it just encourages them”, and I told him that I knew what it was like to beg and to rely upon the kindness of strangers, and the next woman I met that asked me for money got a five dollar bill as well. I would have done anything this man asked of me, but not that, no, never that, because you can’t put a price on decency and kindness, and I am who I am. New Orleans gave me beauty, and a ghost, and a sense of belonging, but most of all New Orleans gave me back to me.


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