It’s early morning in Barcelona’s Barrio Gòtic, a neighborhood at once trendy and medieval, bright and darkly mysterious. While my wife is back at the hotel sleeping, I’m winding through narrow streets and alleys that were built centuries ago to accommodate carts and pedestrians. I’m looking for a kiss. Not just a kiss, I’m looking …
A chapter in an occasional series of posts documenting an autumn 2021 road trip through the Midwest. A continuation of the post, Highway 52 – Southbound To ‘Heaven’ “The people who come here will be drawn…” He stops, searching for words. “Have you ever been walking down the street and stopped in mid-stride and turned …
To the delight of some, the yawns of others and the chagrin of many, The Life in My Years is back in business. Well, that was a short hiatus. Some may ask, “Why?” Others, “Why can’t you just stay away?” I had originally planned to suspend the blog indefinitely, if not shut it down permanently, …
The City doesn’t beckon us back; we simply waiver and then cave. And so a few short months later I’d fallen in love again. That’s how it goes. It’s love/hate/love.
We’ve left Erzulie’s Voodoo Store, strolling along Royal Street. It took some coaxing to get Cora to go into Erzulie’s and she was relieved and happy to leave. Left her a little creeped out, it did. Like most of the French Quarter streets, Royal is a splash of color, heavy on the black, gold and …
The Life in My Years 