The French Quarter is …

bustling, full, neon and gritty.

It’s fast and loose.

And I like it. Alot.

I just walked by a pizza joint. I remember being there a few years ago at 4 a.m. with three of my best lady friends. I looked in the window and saw “our” table.

Things change so much and then not at all.

Because I just might swing by again, late tonight, jonesing for a traditional grease fix.

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