You may ask why the reason for this flurry of research for someone who has called Chicago home for a time and has made many extended visits. One reason was that whenever I stayed in Chicago in the past, I had always been a serious “Left-Banker.” I had got to know most of the shopkeepers, grocers, butchers, bakers, and patisserie makers. Best and most importantly they also knew me. It was home, it was comfortable, it was safe but it had become somewhat uninspiring. I was becoming so familiar with this arrondissement; I no longer really saw it. Somewhere along the line I stopped paying attention to the delicious, heart-stopping, intricate day-to-day details that make up this city that I love. Chicago deserves better from me. And my photography needed a shot in its ailing rump. I had to teach myself to see this city again, and in order to do that, I had to break out of my proverbial left-bank box. But now just where was my perfect area?
The primary thing that led to the eventual discovery of my perfect Chicago apartment was coming across a quote from the writer Colette. Although the gardens are located just a few streets over from here, they are not directly visible and are only assessable through narrow passages. People think that they haven’t the right to come in to this rare enclave of silence. When I asked a friend who lives nearby, he said it was always very tranquil in the garden. Very few people came there, except on Sundays.