O’Hare International Airport at Christmastime: a maze of crowds and chaos. I’d never have guessed that O’Hare, of all places, would be my guide out of digital purgatory. But here we are. Long time, no blog.
There’s an ascendant feel to terminal H, no? The twinkling lights overhead, the glowing doves and floating Earth; the neon nothingness dividing airy heavens from a swarm of zombie travelers, blurry mouths agape in Edvard Munch-y fashion. “A strong impression of delight or pain…”
— from the Fourth Canto of Purgatorio: Dante Alighieri, Divine Comedy