Jun 2019 06

She births fervor.
Brick
by nocturnal
brick.
#Lilith #wiccan #Parkdale #graffiti
Instagram @henrysperson

Jun 2019 05

 

“You’re a beagle.”

“No, you are.”

“No, you.”

She’s about 4 years old and involved in some verbal sparring with her mom in the only way she knows how at this point – calling her a name. In this case, ‘a beagle’. Over and over.

It’s this morning. I’m on the subway on the way to my freelance gig. I’m pretending to read a book but now I’m really observing the two of them as they sit there, giggling, and exchanging barbs.

I stopped biking to work for now. I like the solitude of being in a crowd, funnily enough. Although biking to work made me arrive feeling alive – literally, it’s such a rush dodging traffic and trying to not get killed on the streets at 9am – I’m enjoying the zen energy of disappearing into the herd everyday and getting to work feeling strangely, um focused, and from not focusing on anything for 30 minutes.

And sometimes I get to witness things like this…

“You’re a beagle.”

“You are.”

“No, you.”

“You know what that word means, right?” asks her mom.

The little girl looks perplexed. “Beagle?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Well, you know that dog that lives at the end of our hall?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a beagle. It’s a type of dog.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

The little girl is quiet for a moment. I am literally seeing the moment where new information is uploaded into her young brain and her world is forever changed by the new knowledge.

“Beagle. Beagle. Beagle. Beagle.”

She says it over and over, as if she’s trying on her new world for fit. A test drive.

It’s hard-coded now. Overwriting old programming.

She just shed her skin and I watched it happen.

Kid, I get it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jun 2019 04

 

I dropped in on my dad last night. He’s back home, living on his own. And I stopped by to catch ‘Jeopardy!’ with him, and tell him of my latest strange encounter with the people of Toronto – the most recent happened on the subway while coming to see him.

ME: I don’t know what it is about me but homeless people and junkies just like to start talking to me lately.

DAD: What do you mean?

ME: They just start up conversations with me. They’re normal conversations. But they seem to pick me out of crowds and just start talking to me.

DAD: They must think you’re one of them.

ME: Oh.

 

 

 

Jun 2019 01

For those of you wondering, a Bert update. He’s back at home. Deemed ‘too risky’ for an angioplasty right now – age, getting over pneumonia – he was sent home with a chemical cocktail to keep his blood as watery as a Tim Horton’s coffee and told to lay off the pork rinds. We’ll see what the future holds for him. But, his words ~ ‘I’ve had a good life. Let the chips fall where they may. I’d rather die on a walk along Bloor than in a bed.’Thanks to Toronto Western Hospital @uhn_research My first experience there. What a fantastic and knowledgeable staff, dealing well with reduced everything. Nothing but excellent care and friendly faces. Never seen him eat a pork rind, just for the official record. #rockon #Toronto #ontariohealthcare #nonagenarian
Instagram @henrysperson

May 2019 31

#sentry #Ossington #Toronto
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