Putrescence. Fluids oozing out of old garbage. Piss. And an underlying, lingering, mouldy dampness that swathes the mucus membranes of your sinuses so that you fear you will never breathe freely again.
I’m back in NOLA, and it feels like home.
Life is simply better when I’m here – nevermind that when I’m here I’m on leave from the real world. Things just fall into place. I get a long-awaited call. Some random conflict back home resolves itself. The appointment for my next tattoo gets confirmed. All the good stuff.
You can feel the powerful magick and energy in the air and as you walk around in the humidity, it seeps into you. Possibilities expand. And they are spectacular.
She's Uncomfortable 