In the quiet town of Donaldsonville, Louisiana, a tiny chapel sits at the end of a short road of houses. The one room with a steeple was built around 1907. Surprisingly, the chapel sits unlocked. A simple wooden stop keeps the doors from swinging wide. The room smells damp and …

Richard had all his fingers when I met him the year before. He volunteers at the Alligator Farm and gets a genuine kick out of the prehistoric creatures. He lures them closer for me by dangling the rancid chicken collected from nearby grocery stores. His eyes twinkle when he describes …

I had been in New Orleans for two days when I met the woman with the great eyelashes. After years of photographing strangers, my approach had been honed to telling people directly what I am doing and why I like them. I had seen her walk into the Hotel Monteleone, …

Conversation is easy off of Orleans Avenue. If all else exhausted there is always hawk-talk. She circles and keeps watch over a pretty broad area. We worry about Jackson and Cocoa, the little chihuahuas who are let out in the evening to “exercise”, hoping she doesn’t go after them. Paul …