70. After a night of Saturday standard debauchery, I woke up and watched the snow swirl down 8th street. And it was the type of sweeping snow that can’t escape for the buildings, so it swirls in small cyclones mixing snow with leaves and newspapers and flower petals from the street.
71. Rolling down my windows, listening to the piano mix with saxophone and trumpet on the radio, and driving with my hand catching the breeze and the sunshine. I drove aimlessly around Atlanta and felt like home. I wanted to go sit under the magnolia blossoms in Piedmont Park and daydream or sleep or write or share my thoughts with the world.
these two perfect days were less than a week apart. from snow to sunshine in four days flat.