New Orlean’s French District is full of so much wonder and delight that it took me a bit to turn my attentions to their doors and windows. By the time I did, I had little time left so I have a small selection. MUST GO BACK if only for more doors and windows.
I wandered through a rambling art gallery/loft, getting lost in the twist and turns of the corridors and bumping into surprise juxtapositions of floor textures. I heard the clack of footsteps echoing through the cavernous halls, unconnected to the feet which made them. I do so love texture of all kinds, whether it be texture of touch, or texture of sight, or texture of sound. It is texture that adds depth to life.