i came upon this house while we were walking on our way to get a ferry over to granville island. it was an old house, so it stuck out like a sore thumb amid the towers of buildings that made up downtown vancouver.
judging from the foosball table, i would say some college guys lived in the house.
the colors of these houses sent joy through me. I WANT A PURPLE HOUSE. i loved the life that the buildings of new orleans possessed. for a city that had been so devasated, it had recovered absolutely beautifully.
earlier in the day, i had stopped at a bar to escape the heat and get some water. the bartender invited me to sit down, and chatted me up about my cameras and how i liked the city. the man next to me asked me about how i felt about new orleans. i told him i loved it, and that i wanted to move there. he told me he had moved to new orleans 2 months ago from dallas, texas. he said he was never going back and had never been in a better city. we talked about the pretty houses and architecture. he told me that when he passes the abandoned buildings of new orleans he sees the beauty in them and feels the urge to bring life to them and how in texas everything is made of “glass and concrete” and that all the old buildings have been destroyed.
i loved our conversation and told him it was wonderful meeting him.