In Anna Karenina, Tolstoy wrote that all happy families are alike. The same goes for cities. All cities are alike…to certain degrees. The imposing skyscrapers, the sky obscured, and the dirt. Cities are dirty; the grime is pervasive. The air…it hovers over you, an invisible cloak. In those respects, all cities are alike.
To complete Tolstoy’s sentence, every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. And in this literary analogy, each city has a little something that whispers, beckoning you to know her secrets. Music City certainly had a few.
I didn’t spend very long in Nashville, but the brief taste I had was enough. From the pedestrian bridge, the Riverwalk was visible; the old warehouses dragging you back to mid-nineteenth century Nashville. It’s southern, charming, and weathered, challenging you to appreciate it amidst the sleek, imposing towers. Somehow, it works, and modernity fades as the Cumberland River flows, slowly, and time is suspended.
[I also went to the Loveless Cafe. Read about it here. One word: Biscuits.]