It's only been a month, but the Atlanta I knew no longer exists. It is having a gas crisis and I'm paying a dollar fifty three at the pump. The people I love there are still moving in concentric circles. Are meeting on purpose and by accident in any number of places. Are battling six foot cockroaches under the deck and drinking beer. They're looking out at the city from the patio of the Standard and trying to get comfortable in those unreasonably high metal chairs. I know it would be easier and healthier for me to put these aside. Live in the present. But the smells and sounds of that city are with me. As you are with me. And it's not so easy.