Chicago at Dusk
I was late…or would be if I didn’t get moving. I should’ve been out the door already, heading to meet friends for dinner, but something stopped me. As I crossed the room, the view from my hotel window caught my eye. The Chicago skyline stretched into the cool fall night, with the buildings glowing in a patchwork of lights. The clock was ticking, but the scene through my window demanded attention.
Chicago, a city rebuilt from the ashes of the Great Fire of 1871, has always been a symbol of resilience. The skyscrapers told the story of its architectural renaissance. The city lights cast hues of orange and pink that reflected off the glassy facades of these buildings, creating a scene that seemed to change by the second.
The sound of traffic below hummed through the window, muted by the height. The Lake Michigan breeze occasionally whistled through the tiny gaps in the window frame, reminding me of the cool waters just beyond the urban sprawl.
I had only a few minutes to capture it all. Shooting through glass, with the light fading into dusk and night creeping in, was going to be tricky. But I couldn’t walk away from the view. I pressed my camera to the window, adjusting for the glare and dimming light. My hands moved fast—long exposure, low ISO, steadying the frame—trying to freeze this Chicago evening before it disappeared into the dark.
In those minutes time seemed to stop, and the pressures of my obligations faded. All that mattered was the view before me, the way the city pulsed with life as night fell. It was incredible to witness the contrast between the last fading glow of sunset and the man-made brilliance below.
I made it to dinner...only a little late. I blamed the city.