It was a crisp, sunny day in New Orleans, and I took the Saturday for a nice, long bike ride around town.  There was a bazaar over on Broad and Bienville, so I rode down to the Quarter and then over toward Mid-City on St. Louis.  It always surprises me how fast the view changes when leaving the French Quarter for the Treme.  Literally two blocks apart, the two spaces couldn’t be more different in terms of who lives there, who travels through, what grows there.  I stopped to snap a photo of this overgrown house on St. Louis and N. Prieur.  There is so much going on in this yard–overgrowth, debris, a rusted truck, and a house falling apart.  I always wonder who lives here–or used to–when I see houses like this.  The yard is filled with signs of lives.  The only thing new here, though, are all those candidate signs stapled on the pole outside.   I wish those candidates advertising outside this house had to come down here and see the continued economic and social devastation that started long before the levees broke.  I wish they really had to answer to whomever lives or lived in this house.  Because the organization of space and the destitution of some and the excess of others is no accident.