Old school jazz

It’s hot… not a stifling, overwhelming heat. More a glowing, enveloping warmth that penetrates my very being. I stand at the window, all lights are out. I’ve wrapped myself up in a large, cotton cardigan. Nothing else is needed, and as I walk on bare feet on the parquet floor, the cool floorboards are sending little chills and shivers through my body. The night is in motion, people are out celebrating the first “summer” night that has put an end to a long and cold winter and a not so warm spring. Even with more than a month away from summer, the current temperature could pass for the most glorious and celebrated of seasons.

Opposite our street, a party is taking place. The windows are open and on the close distance of only meters away, I can hear the buzz from people’s chatter. A laugh slices through the otherwise so indefinable noise. It’s joined by others. Music is streaming out of the apartment. It’s old-school jazz, circa 1920’s. It conjures up memories of New Orleans. Memories that in fact are all made up from my vast imagination. Because I’ve never been there. All my images and sights that have been left imprinted on my mind, are from history books and wikipedia, flickr accounts and obscure ghost sites. But for now I imagine the same music streaming out of one of the grand mansions on Royal Street. I stay for a while, travelling in time and place… I love these moments…

Party people & old school jazz