I’m living out of a suitcase successfully.

I’m on the street, navigating among crowds.

I’m making my way out amongst the sidewalk and street traffic.

I make it to more than one appointment.

After one lunch, I’m making my way to the next locale when I realize I walked away from the restaurant and left my backpack. I turn to make my way back to retrieve it.

There are some very narrow passages with extremely narrow steps clogged with people. I am no longer sure how to get where the restaurant was. The restaurant was IKE’S. I am aware that I am in New Orleans. I turn to the very friendly people and say, “I’ve never been to New Orleans before.” They are very warm and embracing. “I’ve always wanted to get to New Orleans,” I say. They are happy to hear it.

I pass various unique and intriguing intersections, various architectures.
I have some awareness of the hurricane devastation, but it’s not too pronounced where I am walking.

I think about giving up the search for my backpack, but do not. I look to the broad, blue Gulf sky, scattered clouds.