Shadows on Bourbon Street

The year was 1925, and New Orleans thrived in the paradox of its own unique heartbeat, the rhythmic pulse of jazz echoing through the narrow streets of the French Quarter, coiling around the wrought-iron balconies like the tendrils of a beguiling serpent. Gas lamps, flickering like distant stars, painted the cobblestone alleys with a sepia glow, casting shadows that danced to the soulful tunes pou...