Chicago

The city is alive as it breathes and exhales.

Parked cars, broken fire hydrants and restaurants:

The city is a tombstone for old ideas.

Every building reaches up to block the sun.

Twice a day, the subway tunnels fill with bodies or empty into the streets.

Decay pulls at the sidewalks;

Between the brickwork, time eats at every surface.

And it rains in November.

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