When I came out of tap class tonight, walking up Michigan avenue, there was a steady, strong, cold wind, with sharp tiny rain droplets blowing straight into me. Downtown was oddly empty.
The tops of the buildings were hidden in fog. Everything had a slow, reflective rhythm to it – the trains muffled, the traffic sparse and thready, the pavement faintly gleaming. The few people on the street were walking around looking dazzled, unhurried, like the wind and fog had entered into them and told them something.