There is no tomorrow

Drink, my dear friend, because today is the absolute truth and tomorrow is an illusion. My friend, lets merry, cause today is the time to do so. Sweetie, let me pick you up and let’s make love in a cottage. Don’t be afraid that I might leave you tomorrow, because as I told you, there is no tomorrow.

This is New Orleans. A city stuck in perpetual present tense. No one dreams in New Orleans, because the reality is grander than the grandest dream they’ve ever dreamt. It’s colorful, full of smiles and beautiful faces. The air is heavy with the smell of booze and the cacophony of amazement. In the narrow alleys of the French Quarter, people meet people, drink together and dance in the middle of the street. In this wonderland every debuchary is allowed, every crime forgiven.


There is a price to pay if you are heavily in love with this city. You will find unfortunate lovers beside every street of New Orleans. A bottle of cheap beer in hand, eyes closed and mouth open. A fly hovering over their tongue in search of the sweetness that hooked them to this city a long time ago.


They forgot their way out of the illusion of presence.


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