Chicago Wilderness
There's this magazine here, called Chicago Wilderness. At first, I thought it was an oxymoron. But having spent five years here I've come to learn that there are pockets of forest preserve in the city (for example, I can watch deer grazing from my office building which is less than a mile from O'Hare airport) and true wilderness not too far beyond it.
But it's still not the same as Wisconsin or Missouri.
Tonight I was driving home, and it had rained pretty heavily during my second dinner of deep-fried asparagus. (It was for charity that I ate dinner twice, tonight, okay?)
As I drove home, the streetlights reflected in the street some reds and greens evocative of the Northern Lights.
And there came a pang of homesickness for places where one can see the stars at night, where one can breathe unlabored and one can walk for miles without encountering another human being.
There's this magazine here, called Chicago Wilderness. At first, I thought it was an oxymoron. But having spent five years here I've come to learn that there are pockets of forest preserve in the city (for example, I can watch deer grazing from my office building which is less than a mile from O'Hare airport) and true wilderness not too far beyond it.
But it's still not the same as Wisconsin or Missouri.
Tonight I was driving home, and it had rained pretty heavily during my second dinner of deep-fried asparagus. (It was for charity that I ate dinner twice, tonight, okay?)
As I drove home, the streetlights reflected in the street some reds and greens evocative of the Northern Lights.
And there came a pang of homesickness for places where one can see the stars at night, where one can breathe unlabored and one can walk for miles without encountering another human being.
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