You are nostalgic. As I walk around your city, I can’t deny the art you bring that makes this city shine like a halo. It’s impossible for another city to make competition as you make it feel like home. Because of you, I have inspiration. I can’t see ahead the oblivion ahead. You have me dancing like a puppet on a string by your affection. I didn’t believe I would be an artist but now, you have Hollywood shifting here. We might as well be the next LA. The more I get closer to my dream of being an actor, writer, musician, and director, you always find ways to ensure everything fits into this tight alley that I walk through. You’re artistic but also, I come to tell you that as an artist, you are not always clean but filthy. Cigarette butts all over concrete. Shattered glass that cuts your atmosphere. Sometimes, it’s not pleasant to walk around the streets when an unpleasant odor knocks on my nose.

Sometimes, I ask whether you’ have a heart condition. The traffic looks like a clot of blood that prevents you to breathe. But taking the train to commute here and there, at least serves as a remedy for you to breathe. Culture is a quilt, and I hope that in the next 10 years, we will learn that we must be united not divided. Thank you Atlanta for the brothers and sisters you birth that get to say your name with grace.

Love,

Dylan