A Cloudy Day in Atlanta, October 2002

Maybe to provide something to look at on ground level outside the soaring buildings, Atlanta has a fascination with big buxom bronze babes.

I don't know what she's looking for up there...

People in Atlanta also seem to like gold things.

These things are gold, but that's all I can tell you for sure. They look like H.P. Lovecraft got a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts.

The traditional statues look awfully traditional in comparison—
kind of a relief every now and then.

On the east end of the downtown there's a sort of shrine to tradition.

Olympic Park, site of the 1996 Summer Olympics, remains as a public park. There's lots of room to walk around, but no central attractions or focus: not to complain, though, because Atlanta needs some plain old open space.

In the middle of the park is a stone basin laced with fountains. They spout up in curious patterns. Maybe somebody should hook up a drum machine to it and see how it sounds.

As with any city, though, it all comes around to the spirit of the people who live there. I think it's wrong to say Atlanta lacks something "Southern" in its character; my friend Milton is probably right when he calls it "the New York City of the South." Like New York, Atlanta is big, cosmopolitan, vibrant, and complete; it's also very much of the South, with its uniquely warm expressions of hospitality and healthy attitudes toward race.

My impression is that people are happy to live here. What more can you ask?