In an alley south of Queen Street West between Spadina and Bathurst:



I love finds like this. Connie and I went for a walk last night and I decided to show her the graffiti along there, and I hadn't noticed this particular piece last time.

I've been thinking about Toronto lately. My walk to and from work goes along Queen Street West. It's a busy place. The summer bring full patios, street vendors, and lots of construction. There are always new stores being built. There's a nice unit going up that's going to have street-level stores, a few floors of business offices, and the top level will be condos. I love mixed development like that. It enables people to live, work, and shop in the same place.

I'm beginning to recognize the patterns of Queen Street. I used to see my councillor (Adam Vaughan) biking to work (in a suit!) every few days, but I haven't caught him lately. Maybe they have different hours in the summer.

Especially on my way home, there's such a hustle and bustle in the city. There are so many people walking and biking and driving everywhere. So many smells—incense, food, sweat, exhaust, garbage, flowers, and sawdust. Stooped-over old women, kids on bikes, TTC officials, homeless kids with lots of piercings, homeless men with matted hair, indie kids, men in business suits who are always on the phone, impeccably dressed women, bike messengers. Hot dog stand vendors, street artists, construction workers who always seem to be on a break, people putting up posters, people handing out flyers, beggars, people looking for charity donations, people waiting for streetcars, business owners sweeping their sidewalks, tourists.

It's insanity, and I love it. When I first moved to the city, I found it completely overwhelming, but I've grown accustomed to it and now it relaxes me. There's a dead tree at Queen and Soho that has been painted (and re-painted), and someone keeps hanging a pink mailbox on it that says "Hopes and Wishes" on one side and "HUGS" on the other. People regularly put things in this anonymous mailbox. I managed to spy one message on my way past and it said "Reconciliation with my daughter." I've seen a homeless man putting a note inside. It's always overflowing, and I'm so curious who is collecting these messages. But it doesn't even matter. What matters is that we do have hopes and wishes and that someone's out there listening. This city has a million stories.

Labels: city, graffiti, toronto