Walking down Bloor Street in Toronto
Walking down the street I passed a man with a double stroller containing two hysterically screaming toddlers. His face expressed exactly what you’d expect it to express. I tried to make my face as sympathetic as possible.
“And all of your joys, blossoming right here in front of you,” I said.
He stopped, looked irritated, “If she just asked calmly and politely this would all be over, but she won’t!” And then he looked down directly at his daughter, “Will she?” And then he strode off, moving quickly as if in some competition.
As I was withdrawing money from an ATM in Koreatown I watched a young woman having an animated conversation with a bank employee who was sitting behind a desk. I watched for about a minute as information was transferred back and forth and then suddenly something happened in the conversation and the young woman, now delighted, stood up and threw her arms around the bank employee. The two women hugged there for a minute, both of them just beaming, dissolving into the most beautiful part of their day.
Right outside of the bank a man was trying to control a bottle of pop that was overflowing and spraying all over the place. Shielding himself and with a big grin on his face, he said, “And it says right here on the side, do not shake!” His friends laughed and pointed, also dodging the fizzy jets, all of it having the feeling of watching a bunch of children run through the water sprinkler or playing in the street while the fire hydrant streamed.
At Queen Video there was a new clerk doing everything he possible could to solidify the stereotypical image of a video store clerk. All worked up, he was in the middle of rant when I got to the cash, complaining bitterly about the video renting public and movies that “were all tone, no plot.” When I put my DVD down on the counter he picked it up and appraised it as if it were a jewel.
“Senna, a solid documentary, good choice.”
Outside of Sarah’s Shawarma and Falafal I tied the dog up to a post while I went inside to grab some lunch. Spotting our dog looking lonely, a woman came hurrying over to offer her comfort. She had a worried look on her face, this woman. Her eyes darted about in pursuit of whatever owner had abandoned their dog in such a way, her nose twitching as if a disapproving mouse or rabbit. She had crazy, grey hair that looked like it had been electrocuted out into improbable vectors, and I kept a very close eye on her as my sandwich was made. After about one minute she left, journeying further into a day that would no doubt lead to an escalating series of upsets.
