While I've written a lot, the cliche still rings true: a picture is worth a thousand words (I missed that count by thirty).
We were surrounded by an army of memories hidden away in trinkets any traveler might collect on an adventure to the Middle East, Africa, or Asia.
Taking up the entire second floor of 180 N. Michigan, the American Writers Museum is sandwiched between floors of corporate offices, like a flower pressed inside of a book.
I don't want to sound like a Grinch, but I find it a sacred practice not to celebrate Christmas early and I planned on following this rule until the day I died. Then I moved to Chicago.
This city is dirty, eclectic, and a bit eccentric. It's also breathtaking and thought-provoking.
I can't say that I truly believe in ghosts or demons, but I do believe in the people trying to find explanations for the unexplainable mysteries of life.
With only one day of my weekend free and over 250 places to choose from, I had to pick wisely.
I've always been a wallflower, almost to a fault...but today I found it to be a bit of a gift.
I felt weirdly under-dressed and like I couldn't actually go inside the stores.
Suprise! I moved.