A jewell

I breathe in the sticky air that travels through the train. My thoughts and wonders go along with it. I see people go in and out constantly; people with different stories, minds, ages, colors, expressions on their faces that show desperation, excitement, freedom, stress, happiness, sadness... Every person who sits next to me leaves something: a word, a smile, a step.

The train reaches my stop and I get out, craving to look at what's outside, waiting to draw a map in my mind of the streets I still haven't walked on, the green lights that encourage me to go on, and the colossal buildings reflecting the sky's mood.

The first thing I see is a tree with green leaves that are on the verge of being painted brown by autumn. It's not a solitary tree; it has others keeping him company down this long avenue. These trees living in the windy city are being shielded by powerful constructions on their sides, colorful doors that are waiting to be opened, and lights that will have to wait until it's their time to shine.

I keep walking and see cameras, driven by their obsession with wanting to freeze every minute. There's something about the shape and tones of this unique city that makes me want to capture it all, remember every place where my feet have walked on and every scene my eyes want to paint with all the shades that this view offers.

A sweet smell gets to me and I can almost savor it in my mouth, the flavor of many types of foods that come from opposite corners of the world. Diversity, that's the word that comes into mind when I think about the story of this city. The story of distinct people that have somehow ended, or are just beginning, life in this never ending maze, speaking their own language and waiting for their heart to be complete.

My feet are going on by themselves, but they know where they're going even if they feel confused. They reach the river and stop. Now my heart's the one leading me, and it's filled with euphoria upon contemplating the water that flows with it's crystalline color and soothing music.

Dodging time and light I can't help but stop once in a while, in a park to look at myself in that symbol, knowing that there's a before and after through all of this; in a corner cloaked with the smell of coffee and old books that live inside a library; in a window where there's a picture of a white blanket covering every street.

Then, without realizing it, I reach the end, the lake. The lake that somehow made a hole in the planes and decided to be part of the northern setting. It gives the perfect balance to this crowded place, gifting it with peace and wholeness.

The sun tells me it's time to go and I feel pleased, knowing I'm falling little by little. Falling for Chicago.