So there it is: grace, alcohol, violence, music, sex , death, bohemianism, melancholy, strange ritual. I had a po'boy that day too, and I rode my black bike across the Marigny and the Bywater in the bottom of night. I admired the glow that bent over the levee from the unseen river. I wondered at the speed of the clouds. The wheels of my bicycle crunched over the remnants of all the old slate roofs now powdered and chipped and lying in the street. I thought I saw buds on the tulip magnolia outside my room when I got home. Darkness, clouds, flowers, fertility.
Duncan Murrell, In the year of the storm:
The topography of resurrection in New Orleans, Harpers Magazine, July 2007.
A terrible and fascinating exploration of post-Katrina New Orleans, often by bicycle.