Chicago

A neighborhood that argues about whether its most famous intersection should even be called Six Corners.

The only square in Chicago that is technically a triangle, guarded by a fifty-foot column.

Named after a Czech city, defined by Mexico, and painted over every year so nobody gets comfortable.

An island of tenured leftism where the lakefront rocks are load-bearing history.

The Black Metropolis, still standing at attention on King Drive.

A Swedish village that became Girlstown, held together by independent bookstores and a fiberglass water tower.

The highest point in Chicago, defended annually by bagpipes.

Half a mile of Division Street under two flags of steel, because roots need rebar.

The neighborhood that ran City Hall from behind a barstool, now brewing beer inside its old movie palace.

Streets too old for the grid, bells loud enough to be the property line.