Lights that have different colors. The yellow of electric signs.
Around one of them that hoists its message in the air runs a green border.
The electric lights quiver and run round the glaring frame like a
mysterious green water. Red, gold and silver pillars in the water. Gray,
blue and black shadows; elfin lanterns, "L" trains like illuminated
caterpillars creeping over Wells Street, waterfalls of silver, Chinese
writing in ruby; black, lead and silver windows and a thousand shades of
darkness from bronze to strange greens. All these are things that the
loitering ones leaning on the bridge rail know.
* * * * *
How nicely the hoods of automobiles hide the twisted lines of the gas
engines under them. Smooth as chariots, curved and graceful as greyhounds,
pigeons, rabbits--the State Street begins after one passes odors. This is
South Water Street. A swept, dusted and wonderfully silent street. White
wings have scrubbed its worn body. But the odors deepen with the night.
Farm odors, food odors--an aroma of decay surrounds them. By their smells
one can almost detect the presence of chickens, eggs, oranges, cabbages,
potatoes, plums and cantaloupes.
A group of movie theaters holds carnival at the entrance to the loop.
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