On my last morning in the Big Easy, I picked up a breakfast banh mi sandwich at Booty's -- a Vietnamese po'boy with egg and pate -- and returned to Clouet Park. It was a beautiful scene: mid-70s weather, a bright, strong sun on green grass, a yellow swing set swaying with the wind, and just me and my sandwich in the shadow of a rustling oak.
Before long, a handsome man in his early thirties with curly black hair and Umbro soccer shorts (that made clear he's well-defined all over), rode his bike into the park. I only caught a glimpse as he nodded in my direction, but he seemed to bear a striking resemblance to the farmer in Ozols's French Market mural. But maybe that's just my memory playing tricks on me. I followed him with my gaze as he continued deeper into the small park to read a book on the grass. More people soon trickled in: first a young woman with a daughter and a pit bull. She was followed by another dog, a German Shepard mix, and his owners, a young boho chic couple. The dogs and little girl ran together as the adults chatted, the handsome man read, I ate my sandwich, and the sun shined down.
Regretful to leave but running late, I tossed my trash and began my walk back along Dauphine Street, where I passed a window displaying head shots of old movie stars. A hand-written caption note in the window read: "Look where you want to go."