home

Grey, rainy streets. Cold wind and rain. The other side of the car and the road. Noise, light and impossibly tall buildings. Crowds of people, wide and blond, pounding past on Michigan Avenue, steaming paper cups of coffee in hand. The small-squared but far-ranging patchwork of city blocks. Sleeping cats, cold floors, and a false coastline. The sheer number of Americans, not to mention the staggering number of white people. I'm adjusting, but slowly.