From the day
Perspective: The Street Photographer · Sight
The sun beats down on the Chicago Stockyards, casting long, jagged silhouettes of men in sweat-stained bowler hats against the brick. Through my viewfinder, I catch a flash of polished brass as a gentleman cranks his Victrola, the tinny strains of Cohan’s march competing with the bawling of doomed cattle and the grit of the street. I duck into a bakery to escape the stench of the packing houses, tossing down **$0.05** for a crusty loaf that tastes like a capital feast after a morning of chasing shadows. The gossip at the counter is all about the European inspectors arriving to poke their noses into our meat, but I’m more concerned with the way the midday light hits the dust motes dancing over the headlines.