On an island at The Peninsula

You can take photos, yes. No, not with a tripod. The hotel doesn’t want that. The hotel doesn’t mind photos. Your car will be ready in a few minutes. Sir? How many shots are you taking? Of the lobby? No, we won’t stop you, so as long as you don’t use the tripod… Dead silence… Click. Click click. Click. Click click click. Sir? Your car is ready. Let me help you with that. Click. Click click. I’ll get the door for you. Follow me… Sir? Click… click. This way.

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Moments before Halloween

I mentioned I couldn’t find something that was both inspiring and the embodiment of Halloween yesterday, but I did have a strange occurrence shortly before midnight on the 30th. A man lay on the sidewalk underneath some of the tallest skyscrapers in Chicago, a woolen cap pulled over his eyes, just minutes before the clocked ticked over to the 31st. He was barely moving save for his breath, but he was at least breathing.

I cautiously walked over to check on him, because you never know what’s up in the city, and through his thick blonde beard he shot back a “yeah” every time I asked if things were OK. But before responding on the third “you sure?” he sat up and removed his shoes, kicked one of them away, and laid back down. “Yeah,” he repeated, he was fine if not altogether there. So, I wandered into Daley Plaza and shot this moody view as the night deepened and everyone disappeared, including the man laying on the sidewalk.

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