My first time at Paynes Prairie

My best friends came to town. We saw wild Mustangs, then we left and saw Mord Fustang.

My first Time in Memphis

My last final was at 7:30 am. I had to shoot until midnight. Then it was free, off to Tennessee with my best friend and three strangers who became closer to me than many people I’ve known my entire life.

If someone told me that they knew more than five people who have made the initiative to take a vacation in Memphis, I would probably not believe him, but amongst the poverty sodden neighborhoods and trash covered streets lies a soul, a soul that I have not seen mirrored in any other city.

We went for Beale Street Music Festival, but we left as new people, with new friends and an entirely new outlook on life.

The festival was an entirely different place every one of the three days for more reasons than one.

At it’s worst, I have never wanted to be anywhere else more in my life, literally tasting the filth and corruption of mankind. At it’s best, I witnessed the most amazing musicians I’ve ever seen, which is REALLY saying something, met some of the most influential people and indulged in pulled pork and collards that changed my take on BBQ.

I left a note in a magic hat, took a dip in a fountain of a plantation home built in the 1700s, and danced in underground blues bars to the most amazing live Blues in the world.

I sipped St. Germain to trancy DJ’s in an old home transformed into a lounge holding the stories of slavery, romance and violence in its walls.

I stood inches away from Florence, Lupe, and hundreds of others putting on shows that remind you of music that isn’t coming out of a computer.

I first radio I would relive any second of any day.