A few weeks before I moved to Madison, Anna Zajac came over to my house to photograph a love letter of sorts, to my neighborhood in Chicago and my apartment, capturing a slice of what I loved about those years and what I’ll miss. Things like plants sprouting in the late afternoon sun of the big northwest-facing windows, the little blue dish of keys on the bookshelf, the soap dish found on a neighbor’s stoop. Things that have nothing to do with zero waste but that I thought you might want to see, anyway. An ode to a loved home.
Coats and scarves hanging just inside the door, often much less neatly than this and a home to visiting friends’ coats, too.
Desk-dinner-table-craft-station-extra-countertop all rolled into one, in the main room.
Elsewhere in the same room, a couch, a chair, a footstool from my grandmother, a bookcase found out on the curb in college. A cactus from a friend who moved away, an aloe plant that the former tenant had left in my very first apartment, stacks of cookbooks.
A treehouse feeling in the summer, my very favorite kind of tree (a locust) right outside.
As with so many small city apartments, a kitchen almost too small to be worth mentioning, not much more than a sink-square of countertop-stove-fridge, what I’ll miss the least.
Wooden dish brushes, some my own, some given to me by a friend who moved away (and who I hope sees this from her current perch in Morocco).
The bedroom, a tiny closet, often crammed with things hidden from sight elsewhere, a secondhand headboard, a birthday gift of a blanket.
We’re far from settled into our new Madison home, but time not spent putting clothing away has been spent on bike rides, making bread and hummus and dinners, tending to summer herbs on the balcony with a glass of iced tea. More on everything, soon.
(Photographs by the talented Anna Zajac for Litterless).