It was the hurricane season of 2018, and I was at peace with it.
Showered and dressed in shorts and a loose blue checkered shirt, I stepped out of my New Orleans hostel, immediately soaked by 100% humidity. It was the hurricane season of 2018, and I was at peace with it. I strolled above the bald cypress tree swamps in the city where jazz was born, ready to fill my soul with its culture and history.