A snapshot from the Annex in Toronto

Earlier in the day while taking the dog for a walk, I passed by a Sorority House. Two girls were sitting out on the front stoop. One of them had not yet discovered her beauty and was still in the phase that would embarrass her for the rest of her days, and the other one, the one with the type of body boys like, had an aggrieved, sour look on her face. The sour one was doing all the talking, while the heavier one in the glasses was hunched over, attentively listening.

“And so they walked by and this one shouted, ‘How r u doing?!’ What, are they crazy, do they think that’s the right way to talk to a girl? Is that all they know? “

The girl who never got attention from boys nodded her head in some sort of eager accommodation, grateful for this glimpse into the romantic sphere of college life, while the girl who was always disappointed seemed validated, her face now angrier.

And then a gust of wind blew a tumble of leaves over the dog and I, and when I looked up I saw a familiar homeless man pacing the street, negotiating the angles of a completely different world, and then a pretty girl with bouncing blonde hair ran past him, past us and the Sorority girls,  bounding down the street toward her destiny.