Peters Street cook out

Lately I’ve been drawn to explore Atlanta with new eyes. To move through the city with intention, to step into spaces where art and fellowship live side by side. My friend Stretch invited me to a small cookout on Peters Street. Not the kind of crowded party where people lose themselves in the noise, but a gathering , artists sharing food, laughter, and fragments of their work. A circle where being together mattered as much as the art being made.

There I met someone who rode fixed gear. It stirred something in me — a memory of when I, too, rode fixie. Until the day I collided with the back of a flatbed truck, and that season ended. Even so, it felt good to stand with another who carried that rhythm, that memory of the ride. What mattered was less the bike and more the connection, the reminder of how our lives weave together in unexpected ways.

What I felt most was the spirit moving among us. Being in the presence of other creatives is never just about “networking” or “hanging out.” There is a current, a shared energy that affirms our longing for expression, for freedom, for joy.

Later, at Peters Street Station, another gathering was unfolding — an all-white party. From what I heard, the host wanted people present, away from their screens, alive in the moment. It struck me: young people in Atlanta are also searching for ways to resist the isolation of constant scrolling. They want to be in the flesh with one another. To me, that desire feels like resistance.

Being out that night reminded me that community is not accidental. We create it — when we cook together, when we show up, when we dance, when we simply share space. Among artists, among dreamers, Atlanta breathes differently. And in being there, I too remembered how necessary it is to step out, to be present, to live inside the creative spirit that binds us.