I admit it.
I haven’t been to the French Quarter at night in a long while. Truth be told, I’m a little fearful. Carrying cameras and sort of hobbling around on a repaired hip makes me an easy target at a time in the city where it seems crime is everywhere.
Yeah, New Orleans has always been a little rough. What do you expect? It’s a port city. Port cities are traditionally tough. But, crime was fairly predictable. Even when I arrived on the scene. I was told stay out of here, here and there at certain times of day and I’d be good. Not so much anymore. More randomness has set in. Oddly, those places I was advised to stay away from have become fairly safe in my eyes. Yeah, stuff happens. But, I know what to look for and I know the good guys, which is most of them.
That’s not really what this post is about. It’s just what came to mind. The thing that I’m trying to talk myself out of doing, or not doing. You know how that goes.
The post is about a great night in The French Quarter. A night when everything sparkles, shimmers and shines. When the Quarter is magical. The place that, when tourists go home, they can’t stop talking about, resolving to come back again. One day. Soon. I’ve met a bunch of you on Storyteller. I try really hard to see my city — my home — through your eyes.
That’s what this image is about.
The picture. Night time on Royal Street. When I pushed the shutter release button it was at the end of a lot of walking. I thought the image was a throw away. Then I looked at it on a large monitor. My first impression was the wrong impression. It’s a pretty nice picture. For my current project I added the usual. Bits and pieces that I found along my walks. I wanted the final picture to glow. To feel explosive, but in a fireworks sort of way.
I think it works. You tell me.