In a really sick, kind of "I can't believe I'm saying this kind of way," I love this time of year. It's like a 8.5 month pregnant woman who is so tired of it all and she knows relief is right around the corner. (Well, not really relief, first she has to go through all that crazy pain of one's womb opening thousands of inches bigger than it normally is, which isn't unlike the last snowfall and mind-numbing cold we'll have to go through before we get spring, so my metaphor still stands.)
Everything is so gray. It's not even gray, it's just colorless. There is no color out there. Even the houses that are bright yellow or purple or whatever have no color. The people have no color, even the people with color. The few people that brave red or yellow coats look like they're wearing black coats. It's depressing. The snow is gray the leaves are gray my skin is gray.
But that my friends is the point where it all changes. The more colorless it gets the closer it comes. The drearier it is the greater the sparkle.
Chicago at this time of year is so desolate, so lonely, so worn down by it all that it almost feels like the city is just going to lay down into it's gray and never come back.
I love it.
You can almost sense it coming.
Darkest before the light.
And let me tell you, this shit is dark.