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Chicago a city of the senses


A City of the Senses

Chicago has enjoyed the tourist spotlight over the years, due to its cultural and economical prosperity. The crowded streets, ethnic bakeries, and popular malls add zest and flavor to this enriching city. Since my short visit in May with a high school class, I have dreamed of making the busy commuters, blinding and mind-altering lights, and sheer musical excitement a part of my everyday life.

Commuters livened up Chicago in delightful ways. Several groups of men and women sat together in close, casual delicatessens on the street and conversed about cosmopolitan attitudes and modern ideas in popular culture. In another area of the city, men ate lunch at The Berghoff and seemed separated from their surroundings, concentrating only on the conversation and the condition on the food being served. To be acceptable at such high prices, the food needed to be flawless. One look outside, from the close quarters of such a place revealed to me a different world entirely: commuters rushed about continuously, convinced they would never reach their destinations on time. On the elevated train, faces contorted in distress and I heard laughter and loud sighing. The flash of an Indian woman's purple sari caught Holzman 2

my eye. The different facial expressions, personalities, and wardrobes present

added sparkle to the otherwise dull and uninteresting dimension of public transportation.

While watching these different characters, I was drawn to the highest floor of the Sears Tower, where lights illuminated the sky and blended artfully into a pattern of lines. When I walked in the street, lights from stores and nightclubs permeated above and around me, making me feel as if I were at the bottom of a pit of existence, looking up at all the activity. This visual vertigo lasted until I ended at an elevated train stop, with proudly addressed street signs above the stairs leading inside. When I was riding on the elevated train, the quickest way to travel in Chicago, the lights became a blur. I was delighted to sit and watch the green, lighted street signs disappear quickly behind me. If the lights of Chicago alone could affect me, I was curious how a full tour of Chicago might captivate me. The array of lights held my attention and mystified me through the remainder of the night.

While the light engaged my eyes, my ears began to ring with the very different sounds of talented men singing in the street for money and a sitar and a banjo strumming along, each with a distinct tempo. These musicians competed violently for the dimes and quarters offered sparingly for their time, each man striving to catch more attention than his competitor. The musicians wore clothes to represent their

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respective home countries. With one glance, I saw India, Mexico and Greece represented in vibrant, alive colors. The sounds didn't complement each other at all, but they all add to the collage of sounds I loved to hear. Trumpets, saxophones, and a mean bass made my blood jump as I walked in front of a blue building on a populated street. This famous blues club vomited forth loud, raunchy music that guaranteed a good time to all who were more than twenty-one years of age. Crowds, struggling to slide past me, laughed loudly and contentedly, bringing a smile to my face. Sound soaked into the very environment, and reverberated through my mind even after sleep had taken the best of me.

After a night of deserved sleep, I was still amazed at the life and enthusiasm of the different shades of personality present. I left Chicago with many different ideas to write about and several vivid and sensual impressions to feed on. However, my greatest inspiration came from the hustling pedestrians, pulsating signs, and unending musical experience which caused an exhilaration of my spirit. For the budding writer, artist, or photographer, this graphic and sensual city was paradise!

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