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Pursuit of Bliss
Joy hunted on foot, not bought.
Bliss in New Orleans is not a destination. It catches you — saxophone humidity, Creole bite, Mardi Gras color arriving before you named the want.
Pursuit is walking attentive. State of being is earned in small receipts: breath synced to brass, appetite answered honestly, moment not posted.
Symphony is declined. Saxophone hum is enough.
The hum finds you on the next block.
JV · Dark Heart Labs