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Come back to Chigaco

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Spring is here, I think? I spend the afternoon in the park with ex-colleague-turned-friend Susan, who is celebrating landing a new and challenging job. There’s a boy in the park who’s walking around barefoot. Later we see him on a slack line. I like this scene; it tells me that summer is almost upon us.

I never seem skilled at enjoying whatever season is here. Instead I’m forever yearning for what’s just out of reach. On Javastraat I pass a travel agency, the target audience of which most certainly is concerned with visiting Morocco or Turkey during the summer months. Surprisingly, there’s a wide array of names that would inspire city trips around the world.

Ever since I passed the agency, Andrew Bird’s Pulaski at Night has been in my head non-stop. “Come back to Chigaco, city of, city of light.”