Down Main Street

 Everywhere I look I see it. Bloodied streets, broken glass, and utter chaos. You may not be familiar with this as it is in a rather surprising place: Louisiana. The whole state looks like a Hong Kong protest. No one has hurt me yet, mostly because I choose not to go outside anymore. The last time I went to Baton Rouge, it looked as if a bomb had gone off. That was a few weeks ago. No one recognizes the most iconic city in Louisiana anymore: New Orleans. The place of true Orleanians like Louis Armstrong and John James Audubon. The birth place of jazz and soul music. The home of parties and creole lives. I only know this from the news. I last went to New Orleans a couple of years ago. Everything looked fine, but I knew it wasn't. I saw a strong case of civil unrest, and no one knows what caused it. Right now, New Orleans is not looked upon as the creator of soul and crawfish. Only the creator of mass destruction. I remember what life was like back then, when everything was so simple. I used to see Mardi Gras parties every year with people getting married, street performers playing their way of life to make a living, and people having cocktails at the local bar. I used to take strolls that were filled with laughter and smiles, once upon a time in Louisiana, down Main Street.