Walking home from the bar tonight I finally got a taste of that winter solitude, the one thing I can wax poetic about when it comes to chicago winters. At night, after a fresh snowfall, walking down neighborhood streets, it’s the one time that chicago can get really quiet. The snow deadens all the usual city noise pollution and isolates each block into its own soft white world. The little architectural details of older buildings are highlighted in the snow, each iron curl and stone ledge, peaked eaves and decorative railings, the occasional gargoyle — all the details that they don’t put into buildings anymore — and the only sounds are the squeak of snow underfoot and our misty puffs of breath.