Mr Bojangles ✔

The streetlights in the French Quarter didn't so much light the way as they did highlight the humidity, casting a hazy glow over the cracked pavement. Near the corner of Bourbon and St. Ann, a man known only as Mr. Bojangles took his place on a rusted milk crate.

"Son," he said, clicking his heels together one last time, "most people spend their lives trying to get somewhere. Me? I’ve already been everywhere. Now, I just dance so I don't forget the music." Mr Bojangles

"Why do you still do it?" the kid asked after Bojangles finished a particularly grueling routine that left him breathless. "Your knees are shot, and the hat's nearly empty." The streetlights in the French Quarter didn't so