Archive for the 'street photography' Category

Celestino Shoe Store.



Memory Laneways


When I was a restless youth, I used to roam the prairies in my free time.  I’d take whatever car I had keys to and just drive.  For hours.

Luckily, in Alberta, this was an easy thing to do.  One friend likened the experience to driving on a treadmill (though to be fair, he was referring to Saskatchewan).

I once went on a month-long road trip where most of my days were spent driving.  I didn’t see much of the places I stopped over in.  The real joy came from the driving itself.  The freedom to explore at high speed.  And the sight of the world, wide and open, undulating and unraveling before me.

It’s a sight I haven’t seen in a long long time.

Grey Saturday.


There was an unexpected chill in the air today.

It made that late afternoon nap all the more satisfying.

Changing gears.


Pulled the bikes out of hibernation today.  And just the thought of riding in the spring sunshine tomorrow was enough to lift my soul.

An internal dialogue taking place in a movie theatre.


I went to watch a movie today.  Brought my camera.  Where to put it.  I start to wonder. 

Should I put my camera away on the seat next to me, wrapped in a scarf, in my bag?  What about no scarf, then I can get it out faster if I need.  But what if the people behind me see my camera and decide to steal it.  Should I wrap its strap around the armrest?  But what if I can’t get it when I need it because it is tied around the armest, tied with a scarf, tied to my purse which is tied to the seat?

I watched the whole movie with my camera, muffled with a scarf, balled in my bag, zipped tight with clenched teeth and closed fists.



Spring is here and that means cool shades and red heat are coming soon.

I belong here.


I’ve spent 5 of the last 6 years in this city and yet Toronto still feels like a stranger to me.  We have more of a casual acquaintance.  We’ve seen each other around, maybe we’ve shared some good laughs here and there but we aren’t at the point where we’re having long phone conversations on a Saturday morning.

Coming from a small city, I find it impressive how well some people know Toronto — its secrets, gems and intersections.  And it’s not just a few of those things, but a lot of them.  My sister-in-law can name all the streets in Parkdale, in order, from north to south — and without even trying.  It’s not like a test for her, these are things that she just knows. I, on the other hand, still get confused over which is more west, Brock or Sheridan.

Like all relationships, this kind of intimate knowledge takes time and it takes effort.  I realize now I’ve been much too casual with this city of mine.  Taking it for granted, assuming that it will reveal itself to me with minimal effort on my part.  Thinking, mistakenly, that it will want to know me.

But Toronto isn’t easy like that.  She doesn’t splay out her riches, like fake chips of glass posing as bling.  She knows what she’s got and only rewards those who make the effort.

I wasn’t sure about it before but now I know.  I want to be one of those who makes the effort.

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