Letter 6
Haze looking down toward Keele and Bloor from the little hillock of the park—a brown haze. Melancholy intersection, late at night, swaddled in fuzz, like something shot on grainy video or viewed through a screen door. There was a familiar sewer smell coming up from the ravine below the intersection. Dirt town. Toronto is a dirt town. Living in New York,…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to ashes and sparks to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.