This one was written at 2:30am on a nearly full moon night at Plan C Art Hostel in New Orleans, Louisiana. We were in our way from Oakland, California to New York and back. My traveling partner and I showed up to this place and I said “are you sure? This can’t be it…”. It looked to me like an abandoned warehouse. There was a panel missing on the sliding garage door and it was in a section of the street with seemingly very few occupied houses. Regardless, we walk to the door, try the code we were given for the keypad and sure enough we’re in. It was fantastic. It was obviously built by some dedicated folk. Along the left side of the building were rows of bedrooms that lead to stage with instruments. Next to that an above ground pool. On the right: a kitchen and a library. In between it all was the art. There were paintings on the wall of cities and trumpet players, sculptures made of bicycle wheels and records hanging on the walls. In the bathroom spray painted like a mantra “I am not prepared to know why I am not prepared to know why…” all over the walls. The last piece I found hit home. I think we can all relate. I find a note that I woman wrote to her parents but never sent. I didn’t read too close. It didn’t feel like my story to read. But two sentences written boldly at the end stood out. “Someday I’ll settle down. Someday I’ll be what you want”