I arrived in a thunderstorm. I brought with me the frost. New Orleans is hauntingly silent (with sirens and horns). I almost swear I'm going to see a ghost wandering the streets instead of the living. The graveyards like little cities. But everyone seems to come alive during the night time. Over old men with their eyes closed and feet tapping. With their glasses and cigarettes burning. I'm sorry if I disappointed you. I thought you were looking for a Saint.
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