Sunday was a beautifully grey spring day that was placed right in the middle of January.
An old man in a Toronto Maple Leafs toque picks up a burning cigarette from Queen Street and places it in his mouth. Blinking his eyes, he crosses the sidewalk into Jimmy Simpson Park. His eyes trained on the ground, he slowly wanders around, hoping for miracles.
At the rink young children learn to play hockey while their parents skate along beside them. A 6 year-old boy wearing a Tim Horton’s jersey puts all of his effort into taking a wrist shot.
“Mom, did you see that?! I raised it!! I raised it!!”
In the tennis courts, two middle-aged men play a variant of soccer. While maintaining an easy conversational flow of Portuguese, they pass the ball back and forth to one another over the net, never using their hands or letting the ball hit the pavement.
Beyond the courts, about a half dozen dogs run riot through the muddy field. Balls everywhere! The owners, like proud parents, stand in a cluster chatting, leashes hanging from their pockets.
A tall thin man in a jean jacket goes from person to person. He’s asking for cigarettes, but nobody seems to have any. Frustrated, he stomps about, occasionally checking the ground, just like the much older man at the other end of the park. Leaving the dog owners, he goes over to the hockey rink, but the parents, protective of their children, turn away from him.
He then goes directly to the tennis court, and through the chain link fence, he asks the men playing soccer if they have any smokes. They wave their hands, shouting “No, no!” and continue to play. He then shakes the fence, giving it a good kick before stalking away.
Now standing in front of a line of sweet and well-maintained homes, he pulls a huge can of beer out of his pocket. Looking back at all the people in the park, he takes three or four good swigs. Crushing the empty with his hand, he throws it into the front yard of the nearest home. And then, as if furious at the world and culture that had rejected him, he stares angrily back at the park, holding the gaze for nearly ten minutes before vanishing down a side street.