I went downtown today to see the current exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Photography. I always like going there because it's free and because it's small--I can take in the entire exhibit without any museum fatigue.
After I was done there, I decided to walk home, a distance of maybe seven or eight miles. I actually did not make it all the way on foot. I twisted my ankle on Michigan Avenue with a wrong step off a curb, and decided somewhere around Fullerton Street and the lake to head inland and give myself over to the Clark Street bus. Herewith a few photos from my journey:
The Chicago Marathon runners were still in evidence downtown, which made the city tired and slender and beautifully fit. The afternoon was golden, leaves like confetti shift and dance on the streets.
I kept thinking a hot dog sounded good, but I could not find a hot dog seller's cart. This sure ain't New York. The blue of the river met the cornflower blue of the sky, and every tall building's window was a mirror for blue, and an echo pad for the authoritative voices of tour boat narrators.
I heard sirens all day, during all parts of my walk. So many emergencies, crimes, and fires. I caught these two trees committing random beauty on a quiet sidestreet.