Kate Gale: A Mind Never Dormant

Going home to heat

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Cold in Atlanta, 39 degrees, but it feels like 32. I drove into Athens, GA to a bookstore there to drop galleys racing with a woman in a white Cadillac.  The drive past cotton fields and plantations, trees with a sweep of moss falling down to the ground like girls’ hair, the air green lit and falling backward. Everything slow. The pine trees tall and straight, thickets of pines.  Between them marshes.  Dead deer by the highway.  A long drive across the South, and tomorrow I fly back to Los Angeles into the bright thick yellow heat.

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