My trip to Chicago is a dream come true. I have been to NYC, DC, Philly, Boston, and Cincinnati. Each city has its own vibe, but Chicago has a pulse that excites me.

Big city people walk with total confidence. They stand up on trains and rush to the exit, barely swaying as the train grinds to a halt. They cross the street with a long stride, rarely glancing at the cars impatient to turn right. Cars careen all over the place; cabbies rival NYC for thrill rides. Horns blare, sirens, those old wind up sounding sirens, echo off buildings.

One of my favorite views is outside our condo’s windows- we look directly across a small plaza to another wall of condos. It’s my own Rear Window. I cannot stop watching the windows, waiting for a glimpse of Raymond Burr smoking his cigarette in the dark, or waiting up for the dancer to return from her date. I got a glimpse of a woman last night, but alas she was not Miss Lonely Heart.

A writer’s paradise.



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