Chicago. Tuesday. Listening to James Brown, People Get up and Drive Your Funk! while the group digests their hot dogs and french fries. Deep dish pizza was for lunch and my oh my, what a beautiful thing those pies are to behold—red sauce sunken into a pie of peppers and pepperoni and cheese. I woke up this morning to a quiet house, a full pot of fresh coffee and the company of Andrea and time to pass. It was humid and hot, stepping outside was like walking into a vat of vaseline, all that moisture pressing against my skin. We hung around the house, eating and napping and being okay with doing absolutely nothing. I think that hard earned time off from your own reality, time to create rest physically and mentally, time to travel and take in everything—the sidewalks of a city, the backyards lined one next to another like files in a cabinet, the heat at street corners from clusters of cars and buses stopped to drop off and pick up, the company of new acquaintances, feeling the energy of mixed company but being reassured that it is good company—is time worth spending. Alone with yourself, amerced in new experiences, waiting for each moment that passes to change you. It is 10:02pm. We are all recharged and ready to go out for the night, having spent the day napping, rethinking our position in this adventure, recuperating and metabolizing everything we’ve already seen and what’s next.

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