Inman Park on a Weekday

Atlanta's first planned suburb, laid out in 1889. Massive live oaks lining Euclid Avenue forming a tunnel of green. The Victorian mansions along Edgewood Avenue are enormous and unapologetic — turrets, wraparound porches, paint colors that suggest strong opinions. One house was painted three shades of teal. It worked.

Barcelona Wine Bar on North Highland does shakshuka in a cast-iron skillet hot enough to brand cattle. The BeltLine's Eastside Trail cuts through the neighborhood — murals on every surface, a thirty-foot monarch butterfly, an abstract indigo-and-gold explosion, a portrait of John Lewis that stops you cold.

The Albert on Euclid is a bar in a building that's been a grocery, a salon, and reportedly a speakeasy. Low light, exposed brick, cocktail menu that changes seasonally. The atmosphere is permanent: people who are exactly where they want to be.

By afternoon, Springvale Park where Euclid meets Edgewood. King of Pops popsicle. A squirrel waging war on a bird feeder. Inman Park figured something out — how to be old and new simultaneously. The squirrel won.