Sunday in Chicago: Blueberry pancakes accidentally spiced with hot sauce. A walk through a foggy glass city. An invisible neighbor practicing the tuba. Teeny-tiny dioramas of the ancient Egyptian embalming process. The best banh mi sandwich I've ever eaten. An addled man urinating against a giant mural of Frieda Kahlo. An elegant glossy theater containing a play about angry drunken steelworkers. Spatters of cold rain. A family at midnight in a dive bar, drinking surprisingly good beer and shouting happily at each other over a dreadful jukebox soundtrack of death metal.
Monday in Chicago: Me getting up too early because I have to work. Wishing for more coffee. Listening to traffic and trains. Watching the clouds scud over the churches. Blue sky.