The Weathered Gates of Life In New Orleans

The doors and windows of very street I happened upon in the French Quarter screamed at me with history. Like the weathered face of a grandfather who carries stories and wisdom, the structures of this place seemed to hold the same type of knowledge. It felt as if these portals, the gateway between in and out, stood for more than just passage. The weakest point in a building- the gateway to the other world, holds the power. We are only as strong as our weakest point, right?