Feb. 28th, 2003

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There is spring hiding in the stonework of Chicago.

I took Lake Shore Drive to work today, and there's something I realized:

Spring is painful. That searing hope, that fear of disappointment, the thrill of joy singing and fizzing through your veins like sugared/poisoned blood. Thin, thready pulse one moment, booming chest bellowing hurrahs the next.

The sunlight was pale lemon yellow, misted over and not quite brave. It was still lovely though. The ground was waking. Even with all the cement, it was there.

Sunshine so bright I wore sunglasses.

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