The sky is shining this morning and I have a bit of time to post a few pictures from a walk I took earlier in the month. (If only the squirrels scurrying along the flat roof outside my window would stay still for a moment, I’d take a picture and post that too, but they’re having too much fun to cooperate.)
Before I do that, though, I want to give a shout-out to Beth Kephart who brought joy to my heart this morning with her post.
Now the photos, click to enlarge:
I took the first one on Dupont Street–it’s in a stretch of warehouses and I always wonder whether this storefront is a fossil or a living store.
I looked at the cat and the cat looked at me.
Toronto’s transit is red–the streetcars, the buses, the uniforms. It brings colour to the grey slush of winter.
And this woman, too, in her red jacket and her dignified waiting for a bus made me think about colour, life, and age.
I don’t know if these images capture the feeling I have as I walk through city streets. The city doesn’t have the peace and spirit of the countryside, which I miss terribly when I spend any amount of time away from the city. And yet there’s colour and beauty, here, of a different sort. It comes from this, I think, at least for me: there are stories, mounds and masses of stories wherever I walk; it’s the density of human life that is talking. It’s a challenge to live this way, so many people, close together, but there’s also something that is magnificent in an entirely ordinary way.