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Here at The Portly Politico, I like to roleplay as some kind of Jeffersonian country squire, overseeing my little homestead while contemplating the grape harvest. As much as I love living in a small, country town, yours portly is not immune to the allure of the big city.
Naturally, I have little desire to live in one, and most certainly not the one that is the topic of today’s post. However, there is a vibrancy and energy to large cities that is intoxicating, especially for those of an artistic bent. Cities can be cesspools of crime, homelessness, and progressive politics, but they also pulse with an electric creativity and a sense of hustle—everyone is working hard to survive and create in a sea of humanity.
Granted, I don’t want to live in an overpriced shoebox, isolated by the sheer size of that very sea. Some people thrive in that environment, while others should probably live on forty acres in the woods somewhere. The rest of us are somewhere in the middle. Most Americans don’t want to live like lab rats in an urban playground.
All that aside, cities are cool—the seats of civilization, as Milo once argued. Despite its crime-ridden reputation, I think Chicago, Illinois makes for a good illustration of cities as the centers of art and architecture—of civilization. After all, what is a civilization but the expression of its cultural achievements? Few cities exemplify achievements in architecture more than that great epicenter of nineteenth-century America, Chicago.
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