Snow covered the flat beach line like sand would in a less surreal place.
I rolled down the window and let the warm sea breeze fill my hair and wrap its familiar hands around my ears and neck. Blue sky and horizon were all I could see if I opened my eyes. I kept them closed and let the sunlight warm my eyelids.
It was dreamy and calming; like lying half awake on the beach on July 29 remembering nothing.
A green sign with off-white bolded lettering sped by on the highway, “Calumet City, population 231”. I opened my eyes to see that we were the only ones on the road. I think the snow turned to sand. I am not sure if I saw the ground properly, it was all so bright and the sun held me in its arms and pointed me upwards like a mother holds her child. My head was out the window and I rolled my neck around to see the towering buildings that comprised the city. It was different then I expected. I felt like I was on an exploded, and abandoned, Brighton Beach in 1922. Large Ferris wheels replaced judicial buildings and carnival rides took the place of apartment complexes. It was a massive dilapidated carnival. It reminded me of arriving in Primm, Nevada. This abandoned carnival rising out from the desert melted into the deserted beach around it. It was so different and so amazing, yet so dilapidated and mundane at the same time. I wanted to take a picture, to capture the stillness.