Tomorrow I'll leave Montreal and go Toronto. In my six months of confinement with my grandmother--plus three weeks housesitting--I'm glad to have been able to explore a lot of Montreal, though I'm sure much remains unexplored. I want to come back and live here, under different circumstances.
There is a subtle resonance between this city--the city where I was born--and my soul, though these words may seem woo woo, it's evident to me to the point of being disconcerting: the coexistence of Anglo and Latin cultures, Rotis as the typeface for the city, a geodesic dome by Buckminster Fuller, the quirky friendly-yet-leave-me-alone quality of its inhabitants, the extremes between its seasons... But these are just external justifications from something that vibrates deeper inside, I feel at home in this city.
Yesterday I biked around downtown for the last time. I chilled out on the stairs of Place des Artes, then walked up St. Lawrence Ave, turned left to La Fontaine park, lounged there for a while, and then trekked back home.
On my way back, a full moon made its appearance. I snapped many different pictures, but alas, photos of the moon never make justice to what you see in person. Still, the beauty is apparent. I'll be here again, I'm sure.
