I've talked to literally ten's of people who say they would love to live in Downtown Chicago. I never have been able to get there. What with the the 3.5 million jerks (***edited for younger readers) that live here, the inconvenience of it all, and the constant feeling that you are not beautiful enough, rich enough, or good enough to be alive and breathing their air, it has been hard for me to utter the words, "I love Chicago."
But tonight it came to me. You see, I am a scent guy. I smell everything. Smells impact me in a profound, if not unusual, manner. I get it from my dad, I've been told. As I was walking home from work, amidst the regular smells of hot asphalt, exhaust fumes, and raw sewage; it hit me. The scent of a blossom. I'm not sure what it was; whether it was a tree, bush, or flower (my mother could tell you exactly... she's a genius when it comes to horticulture) but it was sweet and succulent and wonderful.
And it meant the world to me. Chicago, the miserable place that it is, has had this effect on me a number of times and I've never noticed it. Here in man's kingdom, the city, I have been absolutely raptured by some of the smallest and inconsequential things. Surrounded by filth, hatred, and fear; the smallest glimpse (or scent) of beauty sends me sailing.
For that I am grateful. For that I can say, "I Love Chicago."
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2 comments:
What about the smell of all that great food. Or, a good cigar. Not that I would know anything about that.
that blog made me think of the smells of the Coldplay concert...when you were freaking out about the smells.......
haha
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