On a late fall Chicago evening, the sun shined its last few rays of light slowly cooling the day towards twilight. As the nights got cooler with each passing day of autumn, I found fewer patrons strolling through Lincoln Park at dusk. There’s a beautiful calm that time of year when most visitors have reserved the night for other activities. The stunning quiet showed no traces of all the family photos and selfies by the bridge from earlier in the day. It’s a visual paradox, a private natural sanctuary with a perfectly framed urban backdrop. I stand there alone with no one but the occasional evening jogger passing through for no more than strides it takes to cross the bridge.