The politicians celebrate their victory as the train continues to run over people.

Is there anything in the world cuter than a toddler parroting back to you, “Goddammit! Jesus…”? The answer is yes. That same toddler parroting back to you, “The fuck is your problem?”

He’s a man who seems older than he is as he stoops over a broom and pushes dried leaves and debris off the street. His task is never-ending. Day or night, you will find him cleaning the square under the shadow of the castle.

I can’t put my finger on exactly why, but driving to and/or through Chicago’s western suburbs is an emotional drive through the deepest and darkest pools of my depression.