It’s 5:30 pm on a Sunday at The Children’s Museum of Atlanta, after the doors have been locked and the establishment has been closed for the day, leaving behind  a hollow shell of bright colors and floral arrangements against an otherwise monochrome and clouded landscape. A steady but sparse pattern of cars and buses traverse the intersection at the corner; the traffic light unhurriedly shifts from red to orange to green.

 

 

 

The sculpture out front is a motley stack of brightly colored rectangular prisms atop a concrete cylinder, and adorning the righthand staircase adjacent to the building is a string of potted ferns and shrubbery, some overflowing with cascading leaves of a deep maroon color and lined with curled white foliage.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brown and green leaves speckle the walkway, a few peeking out of the crevices between cardinal red bricks or skidding across beige concrete streaked with darker tones of olive. The ground is flecked with both dark splotches and pale dots.