The following excerpts are from journal entries from the late 1990s-early 2000s.
The Rue is a little coffee shop in the French Quarter that we frequent. There are simple square, brown wood tables, and grey concrete floors. The walls are lined with exquisite antique framed mirrors.
Over a dozen fans line the ceiling, moving the thick humid air in circles. They create this very distinct sound, the sound of fans circulating in the bayou thick air of New Orleans. The summer evening is wet, with the days settling refuse.
A man, shabby, chic, settles in the back table, stable snore. College kids sit opposite, studying intently. The Rue is one of those places I enjoy spending my hours.