sea of people, faces, suits, to work and home, back and forth, like little worker ants, keeping the world working, the micro macrocosm that is chicago, IL, that is the city that sleeps, especially on weekend nights, late, when the 'el stops running, when the overpriced restaurants, burger kings and dunkin donuts all shut down, the trains keep running, the union station, the place where it sometimes all begins, or sometimes ends, so many people, in always such a hurry, the feet, one in front of the other, the souls hitting ground, over and over again, the white and amber flashing lights, yes or no no no no no, emphasis, multiple paths to the same destination a place where fortunes are made and lives are lived, where companies and businessmen and women make decisions that transfer millions of dollars where people come and go, every day, every week, every month, every year, and i join them.
[about musings] ©1998-2023 [eric abando]
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