My Dearest Atlanta,
You weren’t my first city, but you’re the city in which I reside at this very moment. I think I’m writing this letter because soon I’ll have to part with you, and when that happens, the road on which I’ve been walking for the past 18 years will stop abruptly, and pick up in the suburbs of Chicago.
In my earliest years, you were foreign to me, a place to which I traveled often, though I still felt like merely a visitor. Continue reading