There’s a place on Cortland Street and the Chicago River where a crumbling rust-red bridge used to squeak through the Finkl steelworks. It used to be my favorite view of the city — only on bike rides during sweat-hot midnights.In summer, at night, speeding to nowhere, there was a moment past Finkl’s blast furnaces and scurrying forklifts when the downtown skyscrapers shot into view. Looking …
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