It's easy to be depressed about Toronto.
For those of us who knew it, love it, it recedes as if in a rear-view mirror. In a year of masks, line-ups and loneliness, the darkness multiplies.
But then comes ... this.
The first real snow of winter.
At midnight, the missing landmarks, brutal condos and bad news evaporate.
Johnny Strides floats down the middle of Yonge St. in a white night.
It is minus 18C.
Winter freeze-frames the metropolis.
In all this ache, there is comfort.
And I am in love again.
2 comments:
I loved this because I loved Toronto . I left in 1999 when Mayor Mel Lastman was starting the trend toward incompetent mayors.
It is good to see despite the new condos and office buildings, much of Yonge Street remains at a human scale.
Buzzed from a bar, again, I walk back to my apartment and laughed out loud at first hearing the rare squeak of cornstarch snow underfoot--before buses and cars erase it. Decades ago.
When he steps into the center of Yonge street, at 3:30 ... I lost it ....
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