Laura Henneforth's blog

Maybe it was the gushing of a Facebook friend en route for a business trips musing about beignets and chicory. Or my open reminiscing during lino-cut class about the French Quarter. It could’ve been the surreptitious peek at architecture books of southern mansions. Perhaps it all started a month ago, at a quasi-reunion, a high school chum pleading with me to ‘come home’.