The streets flash past, quick as the wind that will eventually whip the flags to shreds. The city we wish we could love grinds along, outwardly innocuous and pleasing, inwardly languishing from a historical disease. The doctors are in, perpetually. More
Two days in Minneapolis, and Celia is homesick for her city. Besides missing her husband, she misses Chicago itself, its density, its heights, its deafening el. The sights seen from the Brown Line on a beautiful day. She’ll be happy to be home at the end of the day.