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December 30, 2002
New Orleans, with all her splendor, promise and lust in her old age, waited for us. Her tits sagged down to the hungry youthful. They were all ravenous for culture, and they were seeking it where there was only a momentary remnant of its luster. It came like a quiet explosion that waved its beautiful face at the dust and glitter floating through the French Quarter, riding a note from a saxophone along Bourbon Street. Then the wave dispersed like a shallow storm. When the ignorant youths have filled their desire and gone, she waited for us to remind her.