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About Chicago

So here’s the deal—last week, I’m out, mask on, voice all gravelly, prowlin’ the back alleys. Not for trouble, nah, just curious, y’know? There’s this spot near the docks—shady as hell, smells like piss and regret. Word is, that’s where they hang. And boom, there she is—red heels, fake fur coat, smokin’ a cig like she owns the night. I’m thinkin’, “She’s a copy of a copy, but damn, she’s real.” Kinda poetic, right? Like in the movie, “What’s authentic anyway?”—makes ya wonder if she’s playin’ a role or livin’ it.

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This city loves you back, mate! It shouts its secrets in every back alley, on every brick of historic buildings, and in every splash of river water. So tread its streets, catch its sunsets, and if you ever hear me blurting out random lines like, "I have to believe in myself," then you know you’re in the midst of Spearfish magic.

Obituary | MarySue Poland of Spearfish, South Dakota