my heart is south

It's almost one year ago now that the 4 of us went to New Orleans to celebrate the beginning of my third decade. Those days I had a hummingbird trapped in my heart. I could feel the fluttering of his wings against the inside of my chest. His will to fly free was so strong that the rapid movement of his wings bruised my insides, only I wasn't aware at the time because with all his might he lifted me ever so slightly off the ground, my toes dangling like strings. All I noticed then was the fact that I was momentarily detached from the rest of the world, not tied down to the ground like the others.

Our last day there we stumbled upon this abandoned plantation about an hour East of the city. I tiptoed as we trespassed on the haunting property. Up the winding outside staircase. Along the creaky floorboards of the upper balcony. A man appeared out of nowhere startling me and I asked him what the rusty basin below was used for.

I made us turn the truck around to go back to this parking lot as well because it beckoned me for some reason. A faded hand painted sign. Just took this one picture of it then climbed back in and we were off.

Our view off the balcony of our hotel. The surreal mix of magic hour natural light and streetlight flourescents. I only want the south.