Atlanta

It hasn’t been easy these last 23 hours.  Berlin to Paris to Atlanta, and my next stop will be Portland.  It’s stupid but I just thought of it – convenient, that it’s called Port – land.  Am I ship returning to harbour?  Do I come from somewhere like Portland?  Does that mean I have to come back there no matter what?

I spent the night here while security guards and janitors and late night shop attendants made their rounds, looking for left-behind luggage, mopping up the mobile sidewalks, counting their chicklet gum packets and tampons and sodas before locking their booths.  I converted my last bit of Euros into dollars before everything closed up.  I got in just in time to buy myself some dinner.  Got myself a food court set of california rolls and a pack of oreos with a wordpuzzle magazine to help pass the time. Did three puzzles, ate the sushi, talking online for an hour or so, then fell asleep at my gate.  I woke up and my hand was asleep.  It was 5.50 am, so I wandered to the bathroom and took a fake a shower, just because I felt so gross.

Miss Europe, think I’ve developed some awkward mimetic accent from all the German accents I was around or something.  It’s really strange being able to read everything all of a sudden.

some last pictures -