I have arrived in Chicago to an empty, deliciously yellow apartment with the dog smell accompaniment. All of the doorways are arched and awkwardly doored with folding closet doors. The bathroom has a good amount of tile missing from the floor and a wall exposing water-rotted drywall. But honestly it looks better than when I came to look at it while the last tenant was still here, as you can tell by the yellow, he had terrible taste. I remember a really bad painting of a taxi cab on the wall he must have pulled inspiration from.