To walk this stretch of park is to tread the very fringes of the city. To the left of the park, with its driving range and harbor, lie only the ribbon of Lake Shore Drive and the Lake. From the right, across the park’s patchy dimness, lights from the nearest congested neighborhood stream. In the funny glow of the clouds, the lives of the millions who dwell here are implied.
This photograph has been given a diffusion effect.
At night, a neighboring building becomes a black-and-gold scrim, bounding the set in which we live. Every once in a while, I look over at the lights, but can’t begin to make out what they illumine. I conclude only that the shape of home is rectangular, and the light given off can be taken for cheer.
An air of expectancy adorns a suburban home on Christmas night. A dusting of snow has fallen, right on cue. Stillness reigns about the darkened doorway. What kind of day has it actually been?
There’s a special feeling to five p.m. in the city, perhaps especially now that it’s getting dark earlier. The lights form ribbons, and liberated workers race along the streets, giving the place a celebratory tone.