Parliament Street in Toronto
Walking down Parliament Street on Tuesday afternoon, I passed through some city housing located between Gerard and Dundas. Squat, red brick structures with no evident personality, they stared out over construction at the Lord Dufferin Public School across the way.
It was an unlovely, windy moment in the city and nobody looked happy. People hurried joylessly down the sidewalk, some private misery written into each one of their faces.
A cough that wouldn’t go away.
A ball-bustin’ ex.
A Visa bill past due.
A hated co-worker who always left dirty dishes in the sink.
Insomnia.
I stopped and looked at the buildings, trying to imagine the tightly packed lives contained within. My eye fell to one tiny window. Open, it was entirely filled by the face of a woman, who with her chin resting on her open palms gave the appearance of a heart-shaped cameo carved into the brick. One thin beam of sunlight was cast on this building, and it fell, as if focused, upon her. Smiling– her arm braceleted and her fingernails ornately painted– she reached out into the day, out into the light, and grabbed a fistful of sun, as if hoping to bring it back inside and into her life.
