This is totally ridiculous, but… the bricks that lined this tree along 55th are gone! When we first saw it, Liz exclaimed “The bricks are gone!”
Liz spotted this, as we were walking to the Metra stop this morning. While there are lovely colors to be found in Fall, it’s particularly delightful whenever you can spot Nature in the process of using a gradient.
He seemed really amused at my request, and was laughing the whole time. I really do have an interest in other people’s jobs, particularly when they are markedly different than my own. If I see someone in the act of doing their job, I almost always have a list of questions that pop into my head.
I then, to my shame, proceeded to tell her exactly how people get high off a can of whipped cream. While I myself have never tried this particular approach, I am no stranger to the frosty touch of a cracker and the sounds of The Hurdy Gurdy Man, as covered by the Butthole Surfers.
Here’s the thing I want you to remember: you made a series of assumptions, based on this young man’s appearance. Given how he was dressed, given how he looked… you assumed a certain intention on his part. You assumed him to be a particular type of person.
The odd thing is – I didn’t see any real motor anywhere. It looks just like a plank of wood, balanced on a single wheel. I’m assuming this thing is electric, as I didn’t see any smoke or hear any noise. But I’ve no real idea what exactly this thing is, much less how it’s powered.
I like this little stop between (official) stops. It makes me think of the world of Harry Potter, or the world of Neil Gaiman. These small moments that the rest of us, lost in our daily routines, might not notice.
It would seem that the battle between order and chaos, good and evil, is ever unfolding. Particularly on our commutes to and from work.
With both of us responding so differently to the same sound, I realized what we had experienced was a kind of sonic Rorschach test.
As we were (slowly) cross the street, we were gawking and trying to figure out just what happened. How could one car be on its side, and the other car be so close (almost touching)? How did they wind up that way?
What’s striking to me is that it seems like the same hand wrote both names. But equally puzzling is both names are misspelled.
I assume this sort of things happens all the time for people doing deliveries in downtown Chicago. But it was just funny to see a ticket on the windshield, and one in the cab that had still not been handled yet.
The seeds were falling all around yesterday, while Liz was working in the yard after work. She said at one point, it felt like watching snow falling.
For some silly reason, I heard a narrator’s voice in my head saying things like “No one ever went to that train station, because the townspeople all knew it was haunted.”
A few days ago, while walking to work, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I was at Wabash and Washington, and something just seemed… a little off.