An array of colored stars dance and twinkle on the horizon above the blur of passing cars. There is a low rhythmic hum that stretches out to embrace me and entice me to explore. The air around me buzzes with electric energy as my muse beckons to me off in the distance, calling me back to my creative home. Within her, borders are the ingredients to shape a better future for myself. All of my senses are heightened with anticipation, my heart is racing, and my body is vibrating as if a colony of bees is buzzing on the surface of my skin. She is the only one who can make me feel this way, and her name is Chicago. Within her boundaries, possibilities are waiting on every street and down each alley. Chicago is a vibrant hub of art colleges, museums, and murals. Throughout the city is art in every form. Designers and architects have integrated color into every new development. The South Loop, for instance, has some astonishing displays of the modern art that has been splashed onto her ancient structures creating a harmonious combination of the contemporary and the antique. On the sidewalks surrounding these magnificent structures, sidewalk artists sketch, musicians play, and dancers move to the music of the city. Art flows down every corridor as a series of sound, color, and movement transforming the city into a magical sanctuary for the creative soul. Her skyscrapers and visitors become a living, breathing, abstract painting. In these moments Chicago is a Jackson Pollock masterpiece. On the surface, she is streaks of violent reds, splashes of depressing blacks and hopeful white spattered across her cityscape. At first glance, there appears to be no rhyme or reason to her chaos. Only ugliness, rage and hard, unforgiving surfaces. The mechanical inventions of modern technology eclipse the world beneath. Her buildings tower over her concrete turf, casting shadows on everything in their path. The day is a cacophony of noise, the pungent odor of exhaust and garbage rotting the sun. Above her streets, the clatter of her Amtrak can be heard as it whizzes past. The roar of Chicago can be deafening to the untrained ear. However, to me, they are the Philharmonic playing Beethoven. If one knows how to look and how to listen, they too can hear the music. It is an ongoing concert, and we are all invited. Chicago contains several layers of subcultures and environments, one stacked on top of the other. They are scattered into every corner of the city. The most prominent shifts in the atmosphere occur between dusk and dawn when the sun rises over the buildings and its beams pass over her landscape. One of my favorite neighborhoods to witness the beauty of Chicago's daylight hours is the South Loop. The brick buildings there almost seem to glow as the sun casts its rays on their sand-colored surface. Her windows become glimmering, faceted diamonds, enticing one to come inside. The parks are enchanting when the sun passes over the vibrant green foliage, glittering on the water of the bubbling fountains, illuminating the proud statues and concrete channels. These are not miracles that can be envisioned; they must be seen with the naked eye to be genuinely appreciated. Although the day holds majesty, her evening hours are full of untold tales. There is a fantastical display of pigments and an aura of secrecy. They seduce the artistic soul and fill the mind with the answers to the unspoken questions. At night, Chicago becomes the ultimate muse as she comes to life in a parade of lights and streaks of color. Cars paint the night as they speed through the darkened streets, taillights a blur. The sound of cultures melding together can be heard in the music pouring from the open nightclub doors. Everything reverberates with new energy. In the dark, away from the downtown bustle, that is where her buildings whisper their stories. There is a feeling of quiet contemplation and mystery. Around the shadowy base of her brick structures, one can sense history. Even in photos when her buildings have been captured in silent motion; her ability to inspire is not lost. Even a photo of her can give me hope when there is none and give me the feeling that all things are possible. From her towering architecture to her vibrant art scenes, there is a vast collection of things to stimulate the senses. Chicago is always changing and moving. Her kinetic energy and color palette are what inspire me most. No matter the distance, Chicago reaches out to inspire me once more.