I was in the Gospel Tent during New Orleans Jazzfesr sitting next to a young lady with a tattoo of a broken heart with angels wings and RIP on top of it.
She was wearing a wedding ring on her finger. She had a very quite demure especially as compared to her friends who happily laugh out loud.
She didn’t look in my direction so I didn’t have the opportunity to try and catch her eye or I might have struck up a conversation with her in order to ask her why.
Later in the day as my Jazz fest tradition dictates, I went out to Congo Square to listen to Maze close the festival. Strangely I found myself standing right behind the lady and her friends – they remembered me and smiled warmly. I did not however believe that it was right to ask any questions as while earlier in the day she had openly displayed her tattoo, she was now doing her uttermost to hide it.
From time to time I still pause and ponder, what could have caused someone so young so much pain that she had decided to wear such an indelible scar
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