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Farrah

@farrahapple

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Unreal city by @farrahapple
It’s been eight years. My bones have hardened here. I was half-feral in the last trine of my twenties when I crossed the threshold of my first home in New Orleans. And I’d lie awake at night. What was I doing here? Where was home? What was my place? In this Unreal City…in the world at large.  You can’t go home again, you know? Home was never where I came from. But was it here waiting to be found? I didn’t know.  Uncertain footing on uncertain sidewalks, carrying the shame I carried since I was a small child. I knew my cards, but I thought I could swallow them. Deny and retreat. I pulled away from people who I should have never pulled away from. Not out of malice or disregard. I was painfully aware, but suspended by shame and self-doubt. Because I hated myself (and not for any good reason.) Now I know That it is always wrong to let shame win. That there’s nothing like the permanence of death to have the last word. Loss…profound loss and the suffocating prisms of grief. You think you can anticipate what it will be like or how long it endures. But you don’t choose your out.  Tunnel vision, changes, the in-between. Uptown, Marigny, Marigny Triangle, then the Quarter. I’ve weathered a major hurricane in the bones of a two-hundred-year-old house and subsequent displacement. Arrivals, departures. Pets, people, places. And constants, beautiful constants.  Now I know what it is to have found my voice, my people, my family (both chosen and blood), my writing group, my instrument, a dog even! To walk in a parade, to dance in the street, and play fumbly music for the live oaks and for my transient neighbors who stay at the hotel across the street. The fullness of life…of love, in all its forms. I stumble, but I flow. I know what it is to be on the receiving end of gentleness that comes from character rather than obligation. To be fiercely defended in my right to exist as my unmasked self, and protected from being coerced into discomfort to please someone else. Thank you for that, New Orleans. And for all that I’ve been given, by those who are here and those who are no longer here. None of it is lost on me.  🎥 Krewe Bohème by @cristarockphoto by @farrahapple
Happy Twelfth Night and Birthday (Observed)/Gotcha Day #2 to our dear Basil! Year one was marked by heartworm treatment (which is fairly intense and scary, if you don’t know), months of strict exercise restriction, home cooked meals so he’d eat and put on weight, and the whole village coming together to love on this little dog. Year two, he really bloomed. Little Cat’s BFF, extreme cuddler, equal parts conniving and flamboyant. Very fitting for this trickster to have arrived at the start of Carnival. While his origins are unknown, some say that he’s a wizard who got himself turned into a dog. by @farrahapple
This is my great grandfather Marion’s fiddle. My first family heirloom. I know this has been a challenging year for many of us. In some ways, the world has never felt more strange or dismal. But a little highlight of 2025. This came to me (along with these family photos) by way of Lafayette…gifted to me by my first cousin once removed, Dave. It has been masterfully restored to full playability by Salvador Giardina in Old Metairie. Over seven years in New Orleans and I had no idea that I had family in Louisiana. The story of that discovery is also very sweet, but isn’t mine to tell. Great Grandpa passed in 1977, before I was born. But Great Grandma Bertha (also pictured) made it to 95. We spoke on the phone once but never met. It’s such an honor to have these pieces of them and to hear firsthand stories of their lives. I learned that my great grandfather purchased this when he was fifteen with his own money earned as a farmhand, taught himself to play, and would sneak out to play in music halls. This Christmas Day marked ten years since we lost my grandma Bernice. But I know she would have been so happy to know that I have her dad’s violin. by @farrahapple
Snowed in, day three. Here are some more blizzard scenes feat. Quarter denizens, a poodle named Willie Nelson, and snow tuba-ing. by @farrahapple
Safe to say that I never thought I’d miss a flight to New York on account of being snowbound in New Orleans… by @farrahapple
For over 300 years, bonfires along the levees of the River Parishes have lit the way for Papa Noël on Christmas Eve. by @farrahapple
A screaming comes across the sky. by @farrahapple
🐾 by @farrahapple
🌞 by @farrahapple
c’est bon by @farrahapple
Five years ago, two crazy kids decided to get married, load up a car with three cats and a couple of chameleons and drive into the night to New Orleans. It hasn’t all been easy—hardly any of it has been easy at all—but if I had to do it all over again, I would. So much has come to pass: hunger, hardship, many moves, wins, losses, the death of family, and the unravelling of difficult personal truths. Throughout the darkness, grief, and despair, your love has been my lifeblood. My best friend, my confidant, my greatest supporter—my family. by @farrahapple

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