Orthonormality in Chicago

The mile of perfect orthogonal buildings with expensive stores below and expensive offices above juggernauts down Michigan until it crashes soundlessly against the park, where I stumble about a hill that rolls down to the orchestra pit and clumsily portrait. Five meters from me the old woman moves to her place, settles on the grass, and from her bag requisitions a knee-high folding table -- a plastic glass half-full of deep red wine -- a small loaf of crusty brown bread -- and as she takes her private half-Rubiyat, her unthinking repetition becomes effortless familiarity, her unfeeling precision transcendent grace; she listens, and Bach echoes in Chicago.

07 May 2007