Toronto: At War (contre moi)

All the leaves are brown and the sky is gray.

I've been for a walk on a winter's day.

I'd be safe and warm if I was in L.A.;

California dreamin' on such a winter's day.

Okay, so I'm not in California, I'm in Toronto. The leaves are green, and so is the grass (see image, feel irony). The leaves are green, red and orange. The sky is blue. I've been for a walk on an autumn's day and I feel safe and warm in T.O., but.....

Gawd(!), what a rude awakening this city has been for my virgin country sensibilities. A month ago I was walking the endless beaches of les Iles de la Madeleine, sand squeaking beneath my feet, ocean lapping at the ever shifting shore. Two days ago I was knee deep in topsoil in Cambridge-Narrows, my muscles alive and flexing. My gardens growing. Fast forward to Toronto....

The entire street named after Wellesley, the one that I most often traverse, is a battle zone. There's construction happening for much of its length, assaulting my senses. Then you've got traffic and sirens and dog and dawdling people and buses and traffic lights and helicopters and airplanes and streetcars and garbage and beggars and texters and aaaaaaaaggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!

It really is a shock to the system. My system. Yesterday I walked around town with purpose (shopping for a new laptop) and lack of purpose (putting in time). It's a strange, hollow feeling that I get from both purpose and lack thereof. The feeling is much the same. Why am I here? Is this my life? Am I wasting my own human resource, so fragile and fleeting?

I'll probably ask these questions for a few days until I settle into some sort of truce with this city. Truce is the word, for sure. It's a compromise for both sides. There is no victory for me in Toronto.