One week in Chicago.
Lived in a small but pleasant apartment, drank really good coffee and shitty coffee alike, hung out on rooftops during sunset, starred at seagulls by the lake, watched Wes Anderson movies, read a book, listened to live jazz, saw old friends, seen old places, discovered changes and the lack there of.
I accomplished a whole of lot nothing (in a good way). The passing of time allowed me to remember, and to hold on to moments, places, people, and feelings.
And now, I am back in the charming little city where I belong. But Chicago, I will miss you.
The sincere reply of "nothing" when asked what one is thinking about... At which the soul is in that odd state of where void becomes eloquent, the chain of daily gestures is broken, and the heart vainly seeks the link that will connect it again.