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Lynn worked for a bank in New Orleans, and was displaced by the hurricane. She was staying in the Red Cross shelter with her family. Rather than sit around all day, she would run. She would run ten to fifteen miles a day in the area around the shelter. We would see her out on the road sometimes, this tiny vietnamese woman, running the streets of Baton Rouge.

Back home she was part of a running team, and they had been training for a marathon. She had no idea where anyone else had ended up, but she had faith that they would all be running the marathon together.

This guy, a photojournalist for a japanese newspaper, was sitting out in front of the the only open bar in the french quarter enjoying a shot of whiskey. Scattered about him were a handful of locals, a few canadian marines and a whole lot of drunk journalists.