1,001 Chicago Afternoons

They clambered over each other to lift the speaker.

Faceless, identity-free, the blocky brown figures held together the cart, hoisting boxes, planks and wheels with mismatched spokes, using their own bodies to fill gaps and shove the speaker up against an empty sky. » Read the rest of this entry «

I went searching for an unfamiliar neighborhood to write a story about and I found a place I’ve been a half dozen times. » Read the rest of this entry «

The young guy yelled “Hey!” as he walked by, then turned back to giggle at me shooting up in the seat and swinging my arms around.

“We’re here,” he said.

“Oh. Uh,” I said, wiping my mouth to make sure there was no drool. “Thanks.” » Read the rest of this entry «

If you’re reading this, lady with the sad quavery eyes, I’m sorry I lied to you. » Read the rest of this entry «

“I have nine schools I service,” the middle-aged nurse sitting in a folding chair in the shade of a tree told me. “That’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” » Read the rest of this entry «

Mike rides his bike to Union Park three nights a week in the summer. He sets his iPhone to play that special brand of indie country, sets his helmet in the grass, lights an incense joss stick and spends the next few hours walking the tightrope between two trees. » Read the rest of this entry «