Silence And Fog

Many nights are loud. With drunken revelers spilling out from crowded bars barking loudly on the sidewalks. Sports fans congregating around the many stadiums yelling their support and derision. Dense traffic with screeching brakes, roaring engines, the not infrequent blast of horns, and the periodic yowl of passing sirens. The lively cacophonous sound makes the already populated city seem crowded. At times convivial, others isolating.

Then there are those rare nights when it seems the whole city is asleep. The avenues and streets deserted. And a peaceful silence descends upon the grid. Unbroken and prolonged. When Chicago, like an eager puppy, lays playfully on its back and presents its warm and portly belly for a rub. All the streetlights like stars and all the buildings like kind and restful idols. A solitude so deep it is comforting.

In the distance the familiar rumble of the train. And faintly, quieter even than the noiseless night, a whisper of promise, hope, and adventure.