This man is sitting about five feet from me on my favorite curb in The Quarter. This curb is quite mundane like all other curbs in The French Quarter. It has a small stream of questionable liquid running right beneath it and is made from the most uncomfortable material know to man, more then twenty minutes of having yourself planted here will result in a couple of days worth of discomfort in your lower half.
However there is one thing that makes this curb more important then the others. Forget about Bourbon St., forget about Jackson Square, and forget about comfortable benches on the river walk. This curb is located at the intersection of Toulouse and Royal St. It is my first and often only destination when I go out to shoot. That is shortly after Spitfire Coffee!
I get nearly every single shot I take from this curb. I have reclined on this curb next to a hungover homeless man at ten in the morning taking in the sun, smells, and sounds of a new day. I’ve met great friends old and new on this curb and laughed and listen to great things. I’ve watched a man pace back and forth talking to an invisible person for an hour here.
This curb and I have a great love affair that is likely to outlast all the ages.