I grew up by the beach. I used to ditch school to hang out with my friends at Huntington Beach. I never thought a lake could have anything close to a beach. But Chicago proved me wrong. I guess that's why they call them the Great Lakes - they're frigging huge. You can't see the other side or anything. Giant. Enormous.

Tuesday after work, I took a walk along the beach to see what it was all about. It's a great place to people-watch, even early afternoon on a work day. Lots of boys showing off for their girls, daring each other to jump in, trying to impress them with stunts... or maybe it's each other they're trying to impress? Chicago is a pretty gay city, after all.

I like the juxtaposition of the water and the architecture. I have been to Hawaii, I've seen beachfront high-rise buildings, but somehow this was a little different to me. It was so impressive, in fact, that I chose to wake up at 5am on Saturday to take a walk along the beach at sunrise and see what I could capture of the day's first light. It was quiet. Magical. Golden.

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn does down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

I think this trip is getting me ready for my new life in San Francisco. It's a nice transition. I should remember to see more sunrises. Pure. Clean. Alive.