I got into Chicago at 3am, red-eyed and weary. From the airplane to the airport, the stifling air got worse as the August heat of the midwest swept over everyone. In my delirium, I took a taxi to the nearest museum and absorbed the energy of the ancient artefacts. I must have been drunk off the courage of even leaving my routine at home. Eat, sleep, work, acceptance. It's not that I drown in my work, it's that I drown it. My free time is endless and all I've used it on is watching the seasons change as they always had before me and always will after. And now, I have two weeks to find myself, a character I somehow have come to believe got lost in the windy city, where all the train tracks come through. For those who want to go somewhere, they go to where they can leave for anywhere. It's just that some never end up leaving, and it's one such of these individuals that I hope to find.
Two weeks.
3 comments:
"Chicago History Museum: Now Open 24 Hours"
Why two weeks? What happens in two weeks?
I forgot to mention I ended up sleeping on the steps and never went inside.
Going back to work after two weeks. Some of us refuse, despite our self-delusions, to be a drain on society. Or are hand-cuffed to paper.
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