Cutie.
Toughie.
Stop in the name of Driver's Ed.
Flames afire, love's desire, higher and higher, overhead, future Bloomingdale trail.
Duct taped, foiled wonders.
Happiness and gaped-faced awe along Bloomingdale viaduct.
Cowboy with neon aura.
Formerly bright green taqueria.
2 comments:
I've always thought there wass something awesomely tacky about taco places in Chicago. I used to live in Rogers Park for a bit, and there was a taco place on Howard at the time that tried to get that old Mexico look. They stuccoed the facade to look like a hacienda and planted a bunch of columnar cacti and agaves in the front of the building. Of course being tender succulents they all died when winter came. But I like they they didn't go the mural way and actually tried to make it look authentic, down to the plants.
I love that people are compelled to decorate out of bounds up walls promising an out of this world meal, on cars, transforming humble unassuming exteriors into something singular. I felt a pang of sorrow at the demise of the tender cacti. Once I gasped during a Herzog film when a pot of geraniums was set on fire by inmates running amok.
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