Harvard decided to write in the third person for his first day in Chicago.
It reflects his feeling of disconnection.
He’s not used to the currency system (his strategy so far is to round everything to a full dollar).
He’s not used to quart or pounds or miles.
Definitely has not gotten the hang of checking the left side of the road before crossing.
To him, it’s like he’s in a movie.
A real life GTA. The car honks. The trains, so loud. So Hollywood.
He thought a couple was having a conversation, only to see them split off, chatting on their hands-free headset.
People swearing to themselves startled him.
The amount of Apple wireless earbuds surprised him.
But he wasn’t annoyed.
His brain was being entertained. Like a reality TV show.
They filmed Batman here for crying out loud.
The air in America smells like opportunity.
Like what dreams are made of.
When was the last time he photographed the streets?
Harvard couldn’t remember.
But he felt free, liberated.
Like what he always wanted to do.
When he was young, he dreamed to study in America.
To live and breathe the cultural influence of his childhood.
The projected mental image of happiness. The mainstream.
Then at the peak of that euphoria, he semi broke down at Millenium Park when he realized there’s a Frank Gehry Pavillion next to the Anish Kapoor sculpture, but no one cared.
Fact is, he didn’t study in America.
Fact is, that was a dream another life ago.
He missed his family.
They say people never change. But they also say change is the only constant in life.
It’s never too late, but time also waits for no one.
Was he shooting for himself now, or was he documenting to show his family?
He’s not sure.
His first day in Chicago, Harvard realized life isn’t a race to reach the end.
It is to dream and to accept the limitation.
To be free, and be grounded.
To know when to grow old gracefully, and learn how to not limit yourself to a corner.